Author Archives: Thandar

Ch 7: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

The man on Jiang Ji’s back was limp and heavy from unconsciousness. Gasping for breath, Jiang Ji finally staggered home under the weight.

“Brother! Mother, Brother’s back!” Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei, who had been waiting by the gate, shouted the moment they saw him.

“Move aside, both of you—someone’s hurt!”

At once, the two little ones jumped aside to let their brother through.

“Xiao Ji, you’re back—” Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia were standing at the kitchen door. When Zhao Ru noticed the figure on his back, she blinked in surprise. “What happened?”

“I found this man hurt,” Jiang Ji said, carrying the stranger inside. “Picked him up in the small grove by the village entrance. Take a look, Mother—maybe you know him? I’ll take him home afterward.”

Since it was near the village, Jiang Ji had assumed the man was a local.

“Injured?” Zhao Ru grabbed the tung-oil lamp and hurried over. She looked carefully, then frowned. “No… I don’t recognize him. He’s not from our village.”

“Huh?” Jiang Ji was stunned. “Then maybe from the next one over?”

“Not them either. I’ve never seen this person before,” Zhao Ru said.

If even his mother didn’t know him, then no one else in the household did.

So there was no home to return him to.

“Forget it—saving him comes first.” Jiang Ji carried the man straight into his own room. “Jiang Nan, go get the doctor! Tell him someone’s badly hurt and unconscious—quick!”

“Got it!” Jiang Nan dashed out like the wind to fetch the old village physician.

Zhao Ru followed with the lamp, lighting the way, while Jiang Xia hurried ahead to pull back the blanket on Jiang Ji’s bed. Jiang Ji set the man down with a heavy sigh of exhaustion.

He’d already been hungry and tired, and hauling a grown man all the way back had drained his last bit of strength.

“He’s completely passed out,” Zhao Ru said, raising the lamp to get a better look—then gasped aloud. “Heavens, so many wounds!”

Jiang Ji turned around and froze. The man’s black coat was filthy and torn, thin for the season. His arms, chest, and abdomen were all slashed open, and on the left side of his chest, blood was still seeping from a puncture wound. There was also a gash on his head.

Holy crap—he looked like he’d been hacked to pieces.

Whoever attacked him hadn’t held back.

Jiang Ji looked closer at the man’s face: strong brows, straight nose, sharp jawline—handsome, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six at most.

Wow. A pretty boy—and a young one at that.

“Xia’er, take Jiang Bei outside. See if the doctor’s coming, and don’t come back in later. Boil some water, too,” Zhao Ru instructed. It wouldn’t be proper for a young girl to stay while treating a grown man’s injuries, and Jiang Bei was still too small—she didn’t want him frightened by the sight of blood.

“Okay, Mother.”

Jiang Bei wanted to stay and watch, but Jiang Xia dragged him out.

Before long, the old physician arrived with his grandson, Da Qiang, a few years older than Jiang Ji.

The moment they saw the man’s condition, both of them sucked in a breath.

“Jiang Ji, where’d you find this guy?” Da Qiang asked.

“At the grove by the village gate. I thought he was one of ours.”

“With wounds like that… could he have run into bandits?” Da Qiang guessed.

Or maybe an enemy, Jiang Ji thought privately.

Zhao Ru held up the lamp while Jiang Ji and Da Qiang helped the doctor undress the wounded man to examine him.

A jade pendant slipped from the man’s chest—a rich, translucent green, clearly valuable. Jiang Ji picked it up and handed it to his mother. “Mother, keep this safe for him.”

Zhao Ru nodded and tucked it away.

When they saw the full extent of his injuries, everyone drew a sharp breath.

A one-inch cut on the arm. A five- or six-inch slash across the chest from left to right. Another three- or four-inch gash across the abdomen, the flesh turned outward and already showing signs of infection. A diagonal wound marked his back as well.

But the most dangerous of all was the stab wound on the left side of his chest—alarmingly close to the heart.

“The head looks like it struck something hard, but the waist and abdomen… those are blade wounds,” the old doctor said gravely, inspecting the injuries. “And this one on the chest—it’s from a sword.”

“The doctor… can he be saved?” Jiang Ji asked anxiously.

The old physician took the man’s pulse and examined his wounds. “His breathing is very faint, and his fever’s dangerously high. Hard to say.”

He wrote out a prescription and handed it to Da Qiang. “For now, we’ll bandage the wounds. I don’t have enough hemostatic powder with me. Qiangzi, run home and bring the rest from the top drawer. There’s also a bottle of golden wound medicine—bring that, and plenty of gauze. Tell your father to mix these herbs and send them over right away, and grind up more poultices for external use—we’ll need a lot.”

“Got it.” Da Qiang sprinted off.

The doctor got to work. Before long, Da Qiang came back with the medicine. Zhao Ru took a portion to boil for internal use, while the doctor cleaned and dressed the man’s wounds. It took more than half an hour to finish. The sword wound in his chest bled stubbornly, and the festering abscess on his abdomen took forever to clean before the golden wound powder could be applied.

“Doctor, will he live?” Jiang Ji asked, pulling one of his own shirts over the man and tucking him under the blanket.

“It’s hard to say. The wounds are all deep—especially that one on the chest. It was bleeding nonstop; it might have reached the heart meridian. I barely managed to stop it.”

The old man sighed heavily. “He’s lost a lot of blood and has a raging fever. Whether he survives depends on if the fever breaks. If it doesn’t…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, and Jiang Ji understood.

The high fever was clearly from infection and inflammation, and in this era, there were no antibiotics—no quick way to bring a fever down. Treating an infected wound here was nearly impossible.

“When the medicine’s ready, feed it to him. If the fever hasn’t gone down after two hours, give him another bowl,” the doctor instructed.

“Alright, I understand.”

After walking the doctor and Da Qiang out, Jiang Ji returned to the room and placed a hand on the man’s forehead—it was burning hot, easily over 39 degrees.

“The medicine’s done,” Zhao Ru said, bringing in a bowl. Jiang Ji carefully lifted the man’s shoulders while Zhao Ru spooned the medicine into his mouth.

They’d done all they could. Now it was up to fate.

Zhao Ru rose. “Xiao Ji, let him rest. Come eat first.”

“Mm.”

Mother and son went back to the kitchen. Jiang Xia had already set the table.

Jiang Ji washed his hands and sat down. Dinner was porridge and stir-fried radish with pork.

He noticed the meat dish looked just as generous as last night’s and asked, “What did you guys eat for lunch? How do we still have this much meat left?”

“Wild vegetable soup and bran cakes,” Jiang Nan replied cheerfully. “We were waiting for you, Brother, to eat the rice and meat together!”

Jiang Ji fell silent.

He glanced at the basket on the counter—the radish and cabbage shoots Aunt Xiufang had given them that morning were still untouched. His mother hadn’t had the heart to cook them.

A lump rose in his throat. “Mom, next time you don’t need to wait for me. I won’t go hungry.”

“Alright, alright. Eat up—you must be exhausted today,” Zhao Ru said gently. “Does your head still hurt?”

“It’s better.” Jiang Ji smiled faintly. “From now on, we won’t have to eat bran cakes every day. I made a lot of—”

He froze mid-sentence. He’d forgotten to claim the rice reward after finding the injured man.

Blinking, he quickly thought of an excuse and suddenly exclaimed, “Crap!”

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Ru looked at him in surprise. The others paused and stared.

“I left the rice in the grove!” Jiang Ji said, slapping his forehead. “The steward from the rich man’s household gave it to me as payment! You all eat first, I’ll go fetch it.”

He set down his bowl and hurried out.

Once around the corner, behind the house where no one could see, he stopped and sat on a rock by the roadside, waiting a few minutes before heading back—he’d have to make it look like a quick trip.

But this couldn’t go on. If he wanted to bring food home, he’d always have to invent excuses to “go work,” just to have a reason.

And long-term, that wouldn’t work. It might keep them fed, but he couldn’t openly use the system’s goods or sell them in bulk for money.

He could sneak things into town to sell for cash, sure—but how would he explain where the money came from? That’d just mean more lies.

Still, telling his family about the system was too risky. Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia might believe him and keep quiet, but Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei were little. What if one of them let it slip? If outsiders found out, would they call him a monster?

And worse—treasures invite thieves. If someone came after him for it, they’d all be doomed.

Better safe than sorry.

After some thought, Jiang Ji decided not to tell them for now.

It’d be a hassle, but at least they wouldn’t have to eat bran cakes anymore.

Opening the livestream interface, he saw over forty thousand viewers online. The chat was buzzing about the wounded man.

【Definitely an enemy’s doing. If it were bandits, how do you explain that jade pendant?】
【Yeah, I think it’s revenge.】
【Man, ancient times were dangerous.】
【With those wounds, surviving back then won’t be easy.】
【That fever’s from infection. Can herbs alone cure that?】
【No disinfectant, no antibiotics… I don’t know if he’ll make it.】
【He’s so handsome though—please let him live!】
【Those gashes need stitching or they won’t heal right.】

Jiang Ji agreed. “Hey, any doctors in the chat? His fever’s way too high—probably 39 or 40 degrees Celsius. What can I do? Is there anything else I should try?”

【Ask the system if it has antibiotics!】
【Yeah, ask the system—maybe it’s got medicine or better hemostatics.】
【And since he’s got stab wounds, he’ll need tetanus prevention too.】

Jiang Ji smacked his forehead. Right! “2977, can you save that man?”

【The system can provide medical supplies and pharmaceuticals. The host may perform treatment personally.】

“You’ve got medicine? Then give it to me!” Jiang Ji said eagerly.

【The host must complete a special task to unlock medical resources.】

“What special task?”

【Disclose the existence of the system to your family.】

“What the hell!” Jiang Ji jumped up. “You’ve been reading my mind, haven’t you?!”

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Ch 6: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

Jiang Ji shot upright in bed.

His follower count had jumped to over twenty thousand overnight!
It seemed proving last night that there was no hidden camera really worked.

They had all been doubting whether he was acting, and honestly, Jiang Ji understood. If he hadn’t experienced it himself, he’d think it was fake too.

Even though he had “magically produced” items through the system, many people hadn’t seen it happen live. Some still suspected it was sleight of hand—after all, magicians could make things appear out of thin air too.

But now, one step at a time, he was making them believe this was all real. With such a bizarre, unbelievable setup, his livestream was bound to explode in popularity sooner or later!

【Huh? The streamer’s already online this early?】
【Morning, streamer!】
【I’m on my way to work—didn’t expect you up so early, it’s only six o’clock!】

“Good morning, everyone.”

Jiang Ji greeted softly, seeing fifty-some people trickle into the chat.
Probably all wage slaves heading to work early.

He’d gone to bed early the night before, and since the body’s original owner had long been used to farm labor, it had a solid routine—early to bed, early to rise.

Outside, dawn was just breaking. Since he couldn’t go back to sleep, he got dressed quietly.

He shared a bed with Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei; the two kids were still sound asleep. Jiang Ji gently pulled the blanket back over Jiang Bei, who’d kicked it off. Jiang Nan had rolled sideways and exposed his shoulder, so Jiang Ji straightened him out and covered him again to keep him from catching a chill.

The main room door was ajar. When Jiang Ji stepped into the courtyard, the faint smell of herbal medicine drifted out from the kitchen.

He went inside and saw Zhao Ru crouched by the stove, tending the fire—cooking wild vegetable porridge while also boiling his medicine.

“Mother, you’re up so early.”

“You’re awake?” Zhao Ru stirred the porridge to keep it from sticking. “You’re heading out today, so I started early. Once breakfast and your medicine are ready, you can eat, drink up, and go.”

Jiang Ji didn’t reply at once. The porridge was almost done—it meant she’d been up for a while already.

The light in the kitchen was dim, but the fire under the stove glowed warmly, lighting up Zhao Ru’s thin, gentle face.

Jiang Ji’s nose stung a little. For a moment, it felt like he was seeing his mother again. Back when he was a student, he always wanted to sleep in, and his mom would patiently but firmly wake him up and send him off to school.

“Xiao Ji, why are you just standing there? Go wash up. There’s hot water in the pot. I’ll cool your porridge and medicine. Eat, then head out—you can’t be late for your first day helping that household.”

Her voice pulled him back to the present. He sniffed lightly and nodded. “Alright.”

They didn’t have toothbrushes—people here brushed using willow twigs.

Jiang Ji took a piece from the water, studied it for a moment, then bit one end to split it open and peeled away a bit of bark to expose the fibers.

【Is that… a toothbrush?】
【Yeah, I think so. In ancient times they used branches to brush their teeth.】
【It is—he used it last night too.】
【Didn’t he say viewers can earn him points? Why doesn’t he just redeem a toothbrush?】
【You must’ve missed the replay. The household goods tab’s still locked. Needs 100k total viewers first.】
【Ah, that makes sense. I watched part of the replay last night but fell asleep before he got home.】

After brushing and washing up, Jiang Ji sat at the small table for breakfast.

Jiang Xia was already awake too. She’d washed up, skipped breakfast, and was preparing to carry two wooden buckets to fetch water.

Jiang Ji blinked—right, the original him used to do that every morning. Since he had to go out today, the little girl was taking over without complaint.

He remembered how heavy those buckets were, even empty. With water, they were much worse.

Watching her small, slender figure, he called out, “Xia’er, wait till I get back—I’ll fetch it.”

“No need, brother, I’m strong enough.” She smiled and walked off before he could stop her.

Jiang Ji opened his mouth but didn’t speak. He could only sigh inwardly. The little girl was far too sensible.

Not just Jiang Xia—the twins, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei, were the same. They never complained even when eating coarse bran cakes or wild greens every day.

He thought of his cousin’s son, who was a bit older than Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei, but still needed a nanny to chase him around with a spoon—and would throw tantrums if the food didn’t taste right.

Then it hit him—he used to be just like that as a kid, fussy and spoiled.

Jiang Ji: …

A little embarrassed, he sighed again.

This morning’s porridge was wild vegetable porridge cooked with a bit of rice, seasoned with salt, and even dotted with a few chunks of meat.

Jiang Ji had two small bowls. Then Zhao Ru brought him the bowl of herbal medicine, now cooled to a warm temperature.

“You were supposed to drink it later, but since you’re leaving soon, might as well take it now.”

It was his third dose, and he still couldn’t stand the taste. But by now he’d learned one thing about herbal medicine—you had to down it in one gulp. Sipping it bit by bit only made the suffering worse.

He frowned and downed the medicine in one gulp.

Once he finished, it was time to head out. Jiang Ji really didn’t want to leave so early, but since he’d claimed yesterday that the rich man’s estate was far away, he had no choice but to set off at dawn.

Zhao Ru walked him to the gate and said with concern, “If your head starts hurting, tell the steward to let you rest a bit.”

“Alright.”

“Oh, Xiao Ji’s going out so early?”

Just as he was about to leave, Aunt Xiufang passed by with her husband, Uncle Tugeng.

Uncle Tugeng was carrying two baskets full of vegetables—radishes, Chinese cabbage shoots, and some chives—clearly on his way to town to sell them.

“Morning, Uncle, Aunt,” Jiang Ji greeted.

Zhao Ru explained, “A wealthy household’s holding a banquet, and they’re short-handed. Xiao Ji’s going to help out.”

“Didn’t he hit his head yesterday? And you’re still letting him work?” Aunt Xiufang asked.

“It’s nothing serious,” Jiang Ji replied quickly. “I already promised them.”

“Alright then, just be careful.” Aunt Xiufang reached into one of the baskets and pulled out a handful of cabbage shoots and a radish, handing them to Zhao Ru. “I just picked these this morning—the weather’s warmer, and the shoots are growing well. Take some.”

Aunt Xiufang was Zhao Ru’s childhood friend from the same village. They’d both married into this one, and after Jiang Ji’s father passed away, Zhao Ru had been struggling to raise her children alone. Though Aunt Xiufang’s family wasn’t well-off either, she still tried to help whenever she could.

Zhao Ru hurriedly pushed the vegetables back. “Xiufang, I can’t take these. Isn’t Dazhu starting school soon? You’ll need money for the entrance fees and to buy brushes and ink. You should sell them.”

Aunt Xiufang stuffed the vegetables right into her arms, glaring at her. “What’s there to fuss about? These aren’t even worth a few coins—don’t be polite with me.”

Up ahead, Uncle Tugeng called impatiently, “You done chatting? Let’s go!”

According to the original owner’s memories, Uncle Tugeng and Jiang Ji’s late father had been enemies in their youth. They’d even fought once and had avoided each other ever since.

After Jiang Ji’s father passed away, Aunt Xiufang had occasionally helped the family out, though Uncle Tugeng always grumbled about it. Still, he never actually stopped her or took anything back.

A knife mouth, but a tofu heart.

“Coming! Hold your horses!” Aunt Xiufang shouted back before turning to Zhao Ru. “We’ll get going then.”

Zhao Ru hugged the vegetables. “Alright, thank you, Xiufang.”

“Don’t mention it. See you later.”

Bickering as they went, the couple soon disappeared down the road. Jiang Ji watched them go, then turned to wave at his mother and headed toward the edge of the village.

At the village entrance, he spoke to his viewers. “I said yesterday we’d head right today, so that’s the way I’m going.”

“Oh, right—guys, I checked this morning and saw my followers shot up to twenty thousand! What happened? Did I get boosted or something?”

There were already more than two hundred viewers online, many familiar names among them.

【When you logged off last night it was only nine-thirty—prime time traffic. People started sharing your video everywhere after you ended the stream.】
【Yeah, since replays can only be watched after you log off, a ton of people went to watch the recording. It’s blowing up.】

“My replay’s trending? Why don’t I see that data in my dashboard?” Jiang Ji asked the system, “2977, doesn’t the replay view count count toward my numbers?”

【The system only calculates data from live sessions.】

“…You’re stingy as hell,” Jiang Ji muttered. “That’s still my work bringing them in—how can it not count?”

【The system only calculates data from live sessions.】

Jiang Ji: “…”

【Haha, your system’s really by the book.】
【Don’t worry—with your growth speed, you’ll hit 100k soon enough.】

Chatting with the viewers as he walked, Jiang Ji continued exploring. Just like yesterday, he took random turns based on audience votes, doubling back whenever he hit dead ends.

When he got tired, he rested by the roadside; when thirsty, he stopped by a farmer’s home to ask for water.

“I’m really giving it my all today, guys—an all-day tour just for you.”

He knew perfectly well: once everyone truly believed he was in ancient times, hitting a million viewers would be a matter of time.

By noon, after all the zigzags, he’d wandered far.

Starving, he stopped at a village, redeemed two catties of rice and one of peanuts from his system rewards, and traded them with a local family for lunch.

By then, his livestream had over fifteen thousand concurrent viewers.

After eating and resting, he set out again.

Passing another village, he spotted a tall mountain and suddenly had an idea. “Guys, standing high means seeing far, right? How about I climb up there—maybe we’ll spot some modern buildings in the distance?”

【Yes! Do it!】
【Climb it!】
【Should’ve done that earlier!】

He asked a villager for directions and began climbing.

It was all narrow paths, steep and uneven. After about an hour and a half of hard climbing, he finally reached the summit.

It was the tallest mountain around, with a sweeping view of the landscape.

Jiang Ji slowly turned in a full circle, letting viewers see what he saw: rolling mountains, winding rivers, scattered villages along the banks, vast patchworks of farmland crisscrossed with paths—

—but not a single skyscraper, no steel bridges, no cars, no trace of modern civilization.

【What a primitive view…】
【Yeah, if this were a film set, there’d be signs of the city nearby.】
【Oh my god, it’s real.】
【Dude, you’re actually in ancient times.】

“See? I wasn’t lying. No film studios here—this is really ancient times.”

After resting at the peak for a bit, Jiang Ji stood up. “That’s it for today’s exploration. It’s getting late—I need to head back.”

“I’ve kinda lost track of where home is, but whatever—let’s find the main road first. That should lead us closest to home.”

Once he descended, Jiang Ji asked a passerby for directions, confirmed where the main road was, and walked another hour before finally reaching it.

The sky was growing dark.

He asked another passerby for directions and finally found the road leading back toward his town—only to realize he’d ended up on the opposite side of it.

From there, it wasn’t too far. After half an hour of walking, he reached the outskirts of town. But there was no time to take his viewers on a tour; he had to hurry out the opposite gate before they closed it for the night.

By the time he stepped outside the city walls, night had completely fallen. Luckily, the weather was clear, and the moon hung bright and silvery in the sky, spilling light like water—enough to make out the path ahead.

There wasn’t another soul on the road. It was just him.

“Good thing I’ve got you guys with me,” Jiang Ji muttered, “otherwise walking alone this late would be creepy as hell.”

【Out in the wilderness at night? I’d be scared too】
【Hurry up—nights weren’t safe in ancient times】

Jiang Ji trudged through the dark for another hour before turning onto the familiar village path. Another half hour’s walk and he’d pass two small villages before reaching home.

“Man, this is even later than yesterday. I’m beat.”

Before heading home, he ducked into a small grove to relieve himself. As he came back out, something suddenly caught his foot—and he went sprawling to the ground.

“Damn it!”

But… there was no pain. He pushed himself up and realized whatever he’d tripped over wasn’t a log or a rock—it was a person.

“What the—? Who’s there?”

His heart jumped. Out here, in the dark woods, that was enough to scare anyone to death.

The figure didn’t move. Jiang Ji nudged the person’s leg with his foot. “Hey! You—wake up!”

Still no response.

【Oh crap, what if it’s a dead body?】
【Don’t scare him like that!】
【This is ancient times—murder victims just get dumped in the woods back then】

The system’s livestream interface was still open, and Jiang Ji saw the scrolling comments. His chest tightened.

No way… could it really be a corpse?

The grove was pitch-black; he couldn’t see the person’s face.

Swallowing hard, he crouched down and reached out, feeling under the person’s nose.

“There’s breath,” he said in relief, exhaling sharply. He patted the person’s shoulder. “Hey, come on, wake up!”

His hand came away sticky. He brought it close to his nose—blood.

“Crap, you’re injured?”

No wonder they weren’t moving. Jiang Ji quickly hoisted the limp figure onto his back and hurried out of the grove, heading home as fast as he could.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Ch 5: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

From the time Jiang Ji came home to when the family finished eating, it had been no more than an hour and a half—yet he’d received more tips in that short span than during the entire afternoon!

That added up to 125 jin of rice and over 60 jin of peanuts! Even instant noodles—about ten packs of them!

Jiang Ji was both thrilled and confused. He quickly opened the comment section to find out what had happened.

【My god, their life is way too harsh. They even save the rice-washing water for the next day.】
【The little brother and sister are so thin—just skin and bones.】
【The twins are so well-behaved! When their mother said they could only eat three peanuts, they really stopped after three. Kids that age are usually greedy and playful—they actually held back.】
【Sometimes being “well-behaved” isn’t a compliment. It just means life has beaten them into it.】
【Sigh… they’re treating a simple radish stir-fry like a delicacy.】
【They haven’t eaten rice in two months. Poor things. Let’s give them more tips.】
【Such a simple meal, yet they were so happy. It’s heartbreaking.】

Jiang Ji scrolled through the comments and finally understood why there were suddenly so many rewards.

The viewers had been moved by the family’s poverty and genuine joy—they couldn’t help but feel pity.

He glanced at the list of tippers. Most were familiar names—the loyal viewers who had been watching since the afternoon.

Many of the new viewers had been brought in by those same fans, though some still didn’t quite believe what they were seeing.

【New here. Is this some kind of set for a slice-of-life drama?】
【Came because of the title. Still a bit confused. Pretty good acting, though?】
【My friend told me to watch—said the streamer has a system that can create items from thin air. Haven’t seen that yet. What’s going on?】
【Wait until he redeems something from the system. You’ll see.】
【It’s not acting—it’s real. This is a livestream. If it were staged, every one of them deserves an Oscar. The kids’ emotions are way too natural.】
【I really believe he’s in ancient times now.】
【I’ve been watching all afternoon. He definitely has a system! What they just ate came straight from it!】

The new audience remained skeptical, full of questions, while veteran viewers started explaining things in the comments—they’d been around long enough to know all the details of Jiang Ji’s situation.

【Why’s the screen shaking so much? God, that bowl of rice is right in my face—I feel like I’m eating with them.】
【He’s got the camera strapped to his head, right?】
【He said it’s not a camera. His eyes are the camera. Everything we see is literally what he sees, which is why the view keeps shifting.】
【Okay, changing angles I can get. But why does the image sometimes go oval, sometimes round?】
【When his eyes move, it goes oval; when he focuses on something, it turns rounder and narrower. Someone said it’s how the eyes focus—especially noticeable when he looks far away.】
【No way, seriously?】
【The screen hasn’t moved in a while.】
【Is he spacing out?】
【He’s waving his fingers in the air—bet he’s reading the comments.】

Seeing all this, Jiang Ji couldn’t help but smile. These loyal fans really were dependable.

“Brother, what are you doing? Why are your fingers moving like that?”

Beside the fire, Jiang Bei watched curiously as his older brother moved his fingers through the air, smiling to himself—it looked kind of creepy.

Jiang Ji snapped out of it, glanced at him, and lowered his hand. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Jiang Bei asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Thinking… that I need to get up early tomorrow,” Jiang Ji improvised smoothly. “Can’t be late to the steward’s place.”

【He really is reading the chat, I’m dying of laughter】
【Streamer, meal’s over—it’s time to get back to work】

Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia were cleaning the pot and washing dishes. The pot scrubber was just a bundle of straw tied together. Because the bowls were greasy tonight, Zhao Ru mixed in some wood ash, used the hot water from the pot, and dipped the straw brush to clean. It worked surprisingly well for removing oil stains.

【They’re still using straw ash to wash dishes—no detergent at all. If this is acting, the attention to detail is unreal】

Jiang Ji stood up. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Xiao Ji, are you going to bathe tonight?” Zhao Ru asked.

Jiang Ji nodded. “Yeah, I walked all afternoon and sweated a lot.”

“Alright, I’ll heat some water in a bit,” Zhao Ru said, then added, “Your head’s still not healed—don’t wash your hair.”

“Got it.”

Speaking of bathing, Jiang Ji remembered there was no body wash or shampoo here. People used soapberry water for bathing, washing hair, and even laundry.

He walked out into the yard, opened the system’s mall interface, and checked the section for household items.

Only then did he realize—right now, the only redeemable things were food. And only the types of food that existed in this world; anything that didn’t exist here couldn’t be exchanged yet.

As for daily necessities—that category was still completely locked.

“2977, why is the daily necessities tab greyed out?”

【Unlocking the daily necessities exchange requires a total of 100,000 accumulated viewers.】

“That many?” Jiang Ji sighed. “So I can’t use it yet. What about the second batch of fruits and vegetables?”

【The second batch includes items not yet existing in this world. Unlocking it requires 1,000,000 accumulated viewers.】

“…Even household items are divided into batches?”

【Yes. Just like the crops and produce.】

Jiang Ji: …

The viewers, who couldn’t hear 2977, were growing curious.

【What did the system say?】

Jiang Ji replied, “2977 said the daily necessities tab will unlock once the total number of viewers reaches 100,000.”

【Makes sense—daily items aren’t urgent】
【Food comes first. Filling the belly is priority one】
【By the way, isn’t your third mission already done? I saw there’s a new reward icon. What’s the prize? Did you finish the fourth mission yet?】

Jiang Ji checked the task screen. “Yeah, the third mission’s complete. The reward is a basic farming skill. The fourth one’s not done yet—it needs a total of 10,000 viewers.”

【Streamer, do you even know how to farm? I thought you were a rich second generation?】
【Rich second gen? For real?】
【He said before he crossed over, he lived on a planet called Blue Star. He was some rich heir—his father owns a corporation.】
【Wow, so he probably has no clue how to farm】
【But the body’s original owner knew how, right?】

Jiang Ji sighed. “Yeah, the original did. It’s all in his memory. That’s why I’m not interested in this skill. Farming’s tiring and backbreaking—farmers work themselves to the bone and barely earn enough to eat. Here, just filling our stomachs is already a struggle.”

【Fair point】
【Still, the system wouldn’t hand out something useless】
【Yeah, the system’s rewards are never random. Ask what exactly the skill does】

Jiang Ji paused. That actually made sense. He asked, “2977, what kind of skill is the basic farming one?”

2977 answered: 【The farming skill compiles agricultural knowledge from your original world, from ancient to modern times, divided into basic, intermediate, and advanced levels.】

Jiang Ji was stunned. “You mean farming methods from my world? You’ve got to be kidding—there’s no fertilizer or pesticides here!”

【The system’s basic farming skill integrates the wisdom of cultivators across eras. Its level surpasses the agricultural technology of your current world.】

“Oh…” Jiang Ji nodded in realization, but still felt no enthusiasm. “I’ll claim it later when I need it. Let’s see what the fourth reward is.”

The viewers were more excited than he was.

【What did the system say?】

Jiang Ji explained everything he’d just heard.

【Got it—so even without modern chemicals, ancient farmers had clever techniques. It’s probably combining that knowledge.】
【What’s the fourth reward?】

“Let me see…” Jiang Ji checked the screen. “The fourth reward is… tool modification skill.”

【Hahaha! You don’t want to farm, but the system really wants you to!】
【This is hilarious. The first few rewards feed you so you can survive, and now it’s just handing you farming tools and skills!】
【So your system’s basically a farming simulator?】

That set Jiang Ji off. “Yeah, it’s a farming system! It’s literally called the ‘Plow and harvest System.’ It dragged me here just to make me ‘experience the hardships of labor’ and ‘understand the struggles of working people’—how ridiculous is that?! Absolutely outrageous!”

【Hahahahahahahahaha】
【I can’t—this is killing me】
【Guess you must’ve been a spoiled rich kid before if it picked you for that】
【I’m crying. What a plot twist】

The entire chat was laughing. Jiang Ji looked up at the night sky, utterly speechless.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But when you’re done, don’t forget to share my stream and bring more viewers. Next milestone’s ten thousand!”

“Brother? Who are you talking to?”

A voice suddenly came from behind. Jiang Ji turned to see Jiang Bei standing there. It was too dark to see his face clearly, but he was looking around, as if searching for someone.

“No one. I was talking to myself.”

Jiang Bei’s mouth fell open in shock. He stared for a moment, then bolted back inside.

“Mother! My brother’s really gone mad! He was just talking to himself for ages, and I didn’t understand a word!”

Jiang Ji could hear every word perfectly.

Jiang Ji: …

【Oh no, the little brother overheard him for a while!】
【Hahahaha, that’s it. The kid’s convinced he’s lost his mind!】

【Anyone would think it’s weird if they saw someone muttering to themselves like that】
【Hahahahaha this is too funny】

Jiang Ji was exasperated. “Alright, that’s enough! You’re still laughing? I’m already miserable—have some decency, will you?”

【Hahahahahahahaha】
【I can’t breathe—how are you going to explain this?】
【Yeah, tell us, I wanna hear how you’re gonna talk your way out of this one】

Jiang Ji sighed, then looked up—and saw his whole family walking out from the kitchen toward him.

Zhao Ru looked worried. “Xiao Ji, your head…”

“Mother, I’m fine. Don’t listen to Jiang Bei’s nonsense.” He tried to reassure her while scrambling for an excuse.

“I’m not making it up!” Jiang Bei said indignantly. “Big brother, you were talking to yourself forever—something about tasks and missions! I didn’t understand a word!”

“T–Tasks?” Zhao Ru’s expression changed, alarmed. “Xiao Ji, you haven’t met any strange people, have you?”

Jiang Ji wanted to laugh and cry at once. After thinking a moment, he said, “Mother, really, I’m fine. The steward I met today told me that since I hit my head and my memory’s been off, I should practice recalling things—like past conversations—to help my recovery. He said his young master used to have the same problem, and that helped.”

Zhao Ru immediately asked, “Does it work?”

“Not sure yet,” Jiang Ji replied smoothly. “But he said his young master fully recovered.”

Zhao Ru brightened. “Then it’s worth a try. Keep practicing, dear. I won’t disturb you. I’ll call you once the bathwater’s ready.”

“Okay.”

Zhao Ru took the children back inside, though Jiang Bei lingered a moment, staring suspiciously at his brother.

Jiang Ji flicked his forehead. “Stop running to Mother with everything—you’ll just make her worry.”

Rubbing his forehead, Jiang Bei mumbled, “Okay…”

“Go on. I’ll… practice some more.”

Jiang Bei kept glancing back as he left.

【The streamer’s mouth is pure trickery】
【Yeah, sure—let’s see that ‘steward’ you supposedly met this afternoon】
【Auntie’s too easy to fool, she believed that instantly】
【Gotta hand it to you, your BS skills are elite】

Jiang Ji clasped his hands dramatically. “Flattered, flattered. If nothing else, I’ve got a quick mind.”

【Ughhh】
【Yeah, quick to lie through your teeth】

He chatted with the viewers for a bit longer before Zhao Ru called him to bathe.

Jiang Ji recalled how the original owner used to wash up. He asked Jiang Bei to bring a tung-oil lamp, then moved the wooden tub into the room, laid out clean inner clothes and a towel on a stool.

When he went to fetch water, Zhao Ru poured out some herbal medicine. “Drink this first. After your bath, you can rest.”

Jiang Ji really didn’t want to, but with the lump on his head still swollen, he had no choice but to pinch his nose and gulp it down.

He chased it with a bowl of water to wash away the bitterness.

“Mother, how many days do I have to drink this?”

“Seven days—until the swelling’s gone.”

Jiang Ji: …So twelve more doses?!

He grimaced but still carried the mixed water inside, fetched some soapberry liquid, and set it aside.

“2977, I’m going to take a bath. Can you turn off the livestream?”

【Your eyes control the stream. I can’t end it for you.】

Jiang Ji: …

He sighed. “Everyone, I’m bathing now. The system can’t shut off the stream, and I can’t keep my eyes closed the whole time. So behave yourselves, alright? Be civilized.”

He deliberately set the oil lamp as far away as possible—just in case he looked down by accident and gave the audience a show they didn’t need to see.

【Wait, you’re actually going to bathe on stream? Can’t you pause it?!】
【I’m dying—he’s really doing a live bath and telling us to behave】
【More, more!】
【He said closing his eyes for three seconds pauses it, and one minute ends it. He can’t exactly keep them closed the whole bath】
【Oh god, I forgot about that rule】
【His house is so poor—no bed, just straw on the floor?】
【So we’re really watching him bathe, huh? Hope this stream doesn’t get banned】
【Quiet—he’s taking his clothes off】
【Oh damn】

The screen first showed the stool in front of him. Then, piece by piece, clothing was tossed onto it. Finally, Jiang Ji stepped into the tub.

【Oh my god, he’s really bathing】
【This is wild—watch before the stream gets taken down】
【It won’t get banned… right?】
【Wait, there’s no moderator in this chat?】
【Yeah, I just realized—no mods here at all】

Jiang Ji didn’t dare lower his head. He stared straight ahead, carefully washing by touch. The dim light kept everything vague anyway.

Bathing in ancient times wasn’t easy—mainly because of the lack of water. Ordinary folk might bathe only every several days, and in winter, once a month was normal.

He scrubbed himself clean with the soapberry liquid, rinsed off with the little fresh water he’d saved, and finally finished.

Once dressed, he emptied and cleaned the tub, then checked the chat—only to find it exploding with comments, the screen full of flustered, nosebleed-inducing reactions.

Jiang Ji groaned. “Come on, guys—it’s just a bath. Are you seriously this dramatic?”

【Hehehe】
【A glimpse here, a shadow there… leaves much to the imagination】
【Only the sound of water, the faint sight of pale arms—tempting indeed】

Jiang Ji: “…”

These degenerates. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Pale arms? I’m a guy! What’s sexy about two tanned limbs? You people have heavy tastes. You wanna laugh me to death and inherit my system or what?”

【…】
【Wait, aren’t you only nineteen? You sound like a pro flirt】
【Hahahahaha, I’m losing it】
【Nineteen and a rich kid? No way you’re still innocent】

Still a virgin, Jiang Ji felt deeply wronged. “What’s that supposed to mean? Since when does being a rich kid automatically mean I’ve done that?!”

“Alright, alright. You guys keep saying you don’t believe my eyes are the camera, right? Fine—I’ll prove it to you.”

【You’re actually going to prove it? How?】
【Yeah, hurry up and show us】

Jiang Ji went into his mother’s room and brought out the small bronze mirror. “Watch closely—this is a bronze mirror. You can see for yourselves whether there’s any camera strapped to my head.”

He held the mirror up to his face, leaned closer to the tung-oil lamp, and adjusted the angle so the viewers could see clearly.

In the mirror appeared his slightly distorted reflection—clean face, nothing on his head but hair.

【！！】
【Holy crap! There’s really nothing there!】
【He’s actually streaming through his eyes!】
【He wasn’t lying! So… he’s really in ancient times?】
【Oh my god, this is insane!】

After dropping that bombshell, Jiang Ji didn’t bother explaining further. In the kitchen, Zhao Ru was washing Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei’s faces and wiping them down; they’d already washed their feet. Jiang Ji took the two boys outside to the toilet, then back to their room to sleep.

He’d walked so far that afternoon that he was completely exhausted, and soon drifted off.

When he woke up the next morning and glanced at the livestream, he was stunned to see that his follower count had shot up overnight—from just over seven hundred to twenty thousand.

Jiang Ji: ！

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Ch 4: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

【Heard from a classmate that this streamer can make things appear out of thin air?】

【I just came to see what this “time-traveled to ancient times” title was about. How can someone act this well?】

【Was watching a movie when my roommate said the streamer’s bound to some “system”? What kind of system?】

【Scripts for short videos were one thing, but now even live streams are going this far? Damn, this plot could rival a novel.】

【Time-traveled to ancient times? For real?】

【My friend told me this guy isn’t even from our planet—or our timeline.】

【That’s insane. I’ve got to see if it’s true.】

The sudden influx of viewers told Jiang Ji that someone must’ve shared his stream link.

Beaming, he looked at his reward screen. “Thanks, everyone, for spreading the word!”

Then he announced cheerfully, “Brothers, just now we hit 100 viewers! That completed my second system task—reward: one jin of pork! The second donation item is unlocked too—go wild!”

【A reward, huh? Then show us! Make the pork appear!】
【Yeah, let’s see the pork trick!】
【Wait, is this “system” thing actually real?】
【Whoa, there really is a second donation item—it’s peanuts!】
【What the heck, this stream’s donation items are totally different from everyone else’s!】
【Rice and peanuts? Everyone else gets little hearts, planes, yachts, rockets! What’s up with that?】
【Streamer, why’s your interface so different?】

As more people poured in, Jiang Ji walked and retold his story about crossing over.

“…and as for the weird donation items, it’s because I’m using a system, you know? Like the golden-finger systems in novels! Not an ordinary livestream platform, so my interface looks different. I told you, I’m in ancient times, got a system—but you all didn’t believe me!”

【My god, I’m speechless.】
【Did he really make rice appear earlier?】
【He did! He’s still holding it!】
【Yeah, I watched it appear right in his hand. I still can’t wrap my head around it!】
【Streamer, claim that pork reward already!】
【I wanna see too!】
【Same here +1】

The chat buzzed with excitement. Jiang Ji glanced at the comments and said, “I’ll claim the pork when I get home. If I pull it out now, I’ll have to carry it myself—it’s a hassle.”

“I said I’m in ancient times, you didn’t believe me. Said I’ve got a system, still didn’t believe me. We’ve walked through how many villages now? Still not enough proof?”

【Keep going!】
【Walk more!】
【I wanna see the pork appear! Now!】
【Go on, I still think it’s a studio lot!】

Jiang Ji sighed dramatically. “Alright, guess you people won’t believe till you hit a wall. Fine, let’s go! I’ll make your jaws drop so hard you’ll hear it!”

The viewers were mischievous too—they refused to let him stick to the main path. Every time they came to a fork, they demanded he take the side road instead, purely for the unpredictability.

The narrow dirt trails between villages twisted endlessly—left, right, back again—until Jiang Ji completely lost his bearings.

“You guys better be remembering the route,” he said. “If I get lost, I’m screwed. The original owner never came this far, so I’ve got no map in my head.”

【Don’t worry, we’ll watch the replay.】
【Not gonna lie, still haven’t seen a single modern thing. Everyone’s in old-time clothes.】
【Damn, maybe this guy really is in ancient times.】

“I told you already! It’s ancient times! Believe me now? I’ve been walking for over two hours… wait, hold up—let me rest. I’m dead tired.”

He sat by the roadside, took off his shoes, and shook the dust out. “I’ve never walked this far in my life! Look at these shoes—what a mess. And I only had a palm-sized bran cake for lunch. It’s long gone. Ugh, so hungry.”

“Brothers, I can’t keep going. My head’s still injured, and it gets dark early here. I’ve gotta turn back—there might be wolves out here.”

【If it’s a film set, two hours isn’t nearly enough to see it all.】
【Why stop now?】
【Wolves? Come on, there aren’t any wolves left anywhere.】

“I told you, I’m in ancient times! No cars here, no lights. You guys just don’t get it. Anyway, I’m heading back. I’ll show you more tomorrow.”

He peeked at the viewer count—228.

Jiang Ji: !

Two hundred twenty-eight people! That meant 2 points—enough to trade for two jin of rice!

After resting a bit, he stood and started the walk back.

“Brothers, do me a favor—share the stream! The next goal’s 500 viewers!”

【You won’t show the pork, won’t keep walking, but still want us to promote you?】
【He’s done enough walking for today, give him a break.】
【Those shoes do look legit though—no way to fake that kind of wear.】
【Why’s he quiet now?】

“I’m exhausted, man. Tired, hungry, thirsty. I don’t even know if I can make it back.”

His energy drained, Jiang Ji barely spoke. He stopped at a nearby village and begged for some water.

“Brothers, toss me a few peanuts, I’m starving here.”

【Peanuts cost a full dollar though.】
【Rice costs ten cents, peanuts a dollar—what’s the next reward item, I wonder?】
【You look pitiful, fine, here’s a tip.】

A burst of effects rained across the screen—a handful of cartoon peanuts with tiny smiling faces tumbled down.

【Oh my god, even the effects are peanuts! I’m dying.】
【Different from normal livestreams, but kinda adorable.】
【If we tip pork next time, will the whole screen be filled with meat?】
【Haha, maybe a flying pig instead!】
【Why didn’t the rice have effects though?】
【It does! Just not for ten-cent ones—you need to send a dollar’s worth.】
【Wow, even the donations have class divisions now.】

“Thanks to Nan Feng, Mouthful of Dust, and Brother MadTalk! You guys are awesome!”

Several viewers had each tipped ten peanuts, and a few others sent rice or smaller combos. Jiang Ji thanked each one.

Then he asked, “2977, can I claim the peanuts now?”

【Yes.】

Jiang Ji crouched again. “Alright, brothers, didn’t you say you wanted to see another reward? Here we go—claiming the peanuts, watch closely!”

【Alright, alright, do it!】
【Quiet, everyone! I wanna see this!】
【Wait—let me turn off the chat bubbles first so they don’t block the view.】

The barrage of comments suddenly stilled—everyone waited.

Jiang Ji spread his hands, tapped the invisible interface—and in the next second, a small cloth pouch materialized in his left hand.

【！！】
【Holy shit, it’s real!】
【I swear I didn’t blink—it just appeared!】
【Oh my god! It really materialized!】

The chat exploded in disbelief.

Jiang Ji untied the pouch—inside was a handful of roasted peanuts.

【It’s actually peanuts!】
【Damn, he really has a system!】
【This has to be some kind of sorcery!】

【Is this really live? Not pre-recorded? Not edited?】

Jiang Ji got up, ignoring the comments, and started eating happily.

The peanuts were sun-dried, unroasted, unsalted—just plain, natural peanuts with a faint sweetness.

Back in his old life, Jiang Ji had never liked peanuts unless they were fried or roasted with salt. He wouldn’t even look at raw ones like these.

But right now, that light sweetness filled his mouth, warming his empty stomach in a way he’d never appreciated before.

“2977, how much is one peanut reward worth? And what about the rice?”

The system’s mechanical voice replied: 【One peanut reward equals 50 grams. One rice reward equals 5 grams.】

“Only 5 grams? That’s it?” Jiang Ji muttered.

【Wait—what did you just say, streamer?】
【And who’s 2977?】

“2977’s my system’s ID,” Jiang Ji explained. “It just told me—one peanut reward gives 50 grams, one rice reward gives only 5 grams.”

【No wonder the rice item’s so cheap—only ten cents each, and just 5 grams.】
【Actually, that’s not cheap! Do the math—500 grams would cost ten bucks! Real rice’s like four bucks a jin at most.】
【Come on, it’s a donation item, not an actual store price.】

After finishing the small handful of peanuts, Jiang Ji felt re-energized.

By the time he trudged back to the village, the sky was dark.

“Damn, I’m exhausted! Finally back!” He leaned against a big tree at the village entrance, panting.

【Why stop? Keep walking all the way home!】
【He can’t even see the road now.】
【Lost for real, haha.】
【You jinxed yourself, man.】

“Hey, that’s unfair! You’re the ones who told me to take random turns—of course I got lost!” Jiang Ji sat at the tree root. “Anyway, time to claim my rice and pork.”

He opened the system stats panel. Thanks to all the viewers’ shares, the stream had gained over 400 more views during his return trip. Including earlier traffic, total view count now stood at 776—completing his third system task.

That task’s reward was a Basic Farming Skill, but Jiang Ji wasn’t too interested in that for now.

He first claimed his second reward—a jin of pork—and saw that his total view count had converted into 7.76 points.

In the system store, 1 point could buy a jin of rice, 3 points a jin of pork, and vegetables like radishes or cabbages cost 0.3 points per jin.

Jiang Ji thought for a moment. One jin of pork wasn’t much—five people could barely split it.

So he traded for 4 jin of rice, 1 more jin of pork, and 2 white radishes—spending all his points.

He also claimed the rice and peanuts viewers had tipped—about one jin of rice and another jin of peanuts.

In front of him, several small cloth bags appeared out of thin air. Old viewers had seen this before, but new ones gasped in shock, filling the chat with excitement.

【Still crazy even after seeing it again!】
【He’s got quite the haul now.】
【Okay, I actually believe he has a system.】
【This is straight-up magic!】

Jiang Ji carried more than six jin of rice in his left hand, two jin of pork in his right, plus radishes and peanuts, heading home.

It was fully dark now. Every household had lamps lit—warm yellow light spilling from windows, smoke curling from chimneys, and the smell of dinner in the air.

“Once I get home, I won’t be able to chat much,” he told the viewers. “Just watch, okay?”

【Got it.】
【Go on, you’ve walked enough for one day.】
【It really does look ancient—every house is lived in. No way that’s staged.】
【Yeah, I’m starting to think he’s actually in ancient times.】

Jiang Ji didn’t bother explaining anymore. When he neared home, he saw two small figures waiting by the door.

“Brother! You’re back!” Jiang Nan’s voice called out from afar. In moments, the boy came running.

“Mother! Second Sister! Big Brother’s back!” Jiang Bei shouted toward the courtyard before running up too.

“Brother, you’re finally home! We were so worried.”

Jiang Nan stopped in front of him, eyeing the bags curiously. “Brother, what’s all that?”

Jiang Bei ran up beside him. “Yeah! Where’d you go this afternoon? What did you bring back?”

“You’ll see soon,” Jiang Ji said mysteriously, leading the two little rascals inside.

“Mother, Xia’er, I’m home.”

Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia were waiting at the kitchen door. Seeing him, Zhao Ru asked anxiously, “Where have you been all afternoon? You’re still injured!”

“I’m fine, Mother—just tired.” Jiang Ji lifted his arms to show the bags. “Look, Mother—I brought rice and vegetables!”

“Rice? Vegetables?”

They all stared as he set the bags on the table and opened them one by one.

Jiang Bei gasped. “It’s really rice! And so much of it!”

“Peanuts!” Jiang Xia said in delight. “And radishes!”

“Whoa, meat! There’s meat!” Jiang Nan’s eyes went wide. “We get to eat meat!”

Zhao Ru stared in shock at the food, then asked, “Xiao Ji, where did you get money for all this?”

Jiang Ji had already prepared his story on the way home. “I saw a broken carriage on the main road this afternoon. The man was hauling goods, so I helped him deliver everything. This is what he gave me as payment.”

“That’s… a lot of payment,” Zhao Ru said, still doubtful.

“He’s from a wealthy household—very generous,” Jiang Ji said without blinking. “They’re holding a banquet tomorrow, short on helpers, so the steward asked me to come. I agreed.”

Zhao Ru was convinced by his reasonable explanation. “You’re right to go. All this food is worth at least two days of wages. But your head…”

“My head’s fine, Mother. I’ll go early tomorrow.” Jiang Ji rubbed his stomach. “Mother, let’s cook rice tonight, and stir-fry the pork. That family lived pretty far—I walked for hours. I’m starving.”

At the mention of rice and stir-fried pork, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei’s eyes lit up instantly. Even Jiang Xia, usually the most sensible and undemanding, looked at their mother with quiet anticipation.

Zhao Ru looked at the small bag of rice. “I’ve already boiled wild vegetable soup… maybe we should make porridge instead?”

That way, it would last for more meals.

They usually had nothing but wild vegetable soup at night—not even rice bran.

Jiang Ji protested, “Mother, I’ll bring back more rice tomorrow. We didn’t even eat rice at New Year’s! It’s been over two months since we last had rice or meat.”

Jiang Nan tugged her sleeve. “Mother, I want to eat rice too.”

Jiang Bei and Jiang Xia said nothing, but their hopeful eyes spoke for them.

Zhao Ru looked at her four thin-faced children and their eager expressions. Her heart softened. “Alright, tonight we’ll eat white rice and cook the meat.”

“Yay! Rice!”

“And meat! I want meat!”

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei cheered, bouncing with excitement. Jiang Xia broke into a grin. “I’ll rinse the rice and cook it.”

“I’ll start the fire!” Jiang Bei volunteered.

Jiang Nan picked up a white radish. “Then I’ll wash the radish!”

Zhao Ru didn’t stop them. Smiling, she patted Jiang Nan’s head. “Wash it clean.”

“I know, Mother.” Jiang Nan ran off with the radish and a wooden basin.

“Xiao Ji, sit and rest,” Zhao Ru told her eldest. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Alright.” Jiang Ji couldn’t cook anyway. He washed his hands, drank some water, and sat near the stove to rest.

He had been walking all afternoon and was truly exhausted. Thankfully, his new body was used to labor and could still handle the strain.

As he massaged his sore calves, he looked up and saw Jiang Xia carefully saving the rice-washing water into another bowl.

“Xia’er, why are you keeping that?” he asked.

“This rice is really clean, not a speck of dust,” she replied. “We can pour the water into the wild vegetable soup tomorrow morning—it’ll make it richer.”

Jiang Ji opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Jiang Xia continued, “Brother, this must be what rich families eat. Look—no broken grains, and the aroma’s so strong! The cooked rice will definitely taste amazing.”

“Of course,” Zhao Ru said with a smile. “Everything rich families eat is refined.”

Jiang Xia set the pot on the small stove.

Jiang Bei added firewood. “I can handle it, Second Sister.”

“I’m worried you’ll make the fire too big or too small,” Jiang Xia said. “If you ruin the rice, that’d be such a waste.”

Jiang Bei thought about it and nodded. “You’re right.” He handed her the fire stick.

The little girl skillfully tended the fire. Watching her, Jiang Ji felt a pang of embarrassment—he didn’t even know how to do that.

Meanwhile, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei stood beside their mother as she cut the meat.

A bag of peanuts still sat on the table. Jiang Nan kept glancing at it until he couldn’t resist. “Mother, can I eat one peanut?”

“Go ahead, but don’t spill them,” Zhao Ru said. “You can only eat three at most. We’ll save the rest for planting.”

“Okay.”

Jiang Ji overheard and wanted to tell her not to worry—he could get more peanuts from the system—but decided to stay quiet. Tomorrow, once he exchanged more rewards, they could eat freely without concern.

Jiang Nan carefully opened the bag and popped a peanut into his mouth.

Crunch. Crunch.

“Is it good?” Jiang Bei asked eagerly.

“Try one.” Jiang Nan handed him another. “Well?”

Jiang Bei chewed, his eyes narrowing with delight. “It’s good.”

The two brothers smiled at each other, simple and happy.

Then Jiang Nan took another peanut, ran to his mother, and offered it. “Mother, you have one too.”

Zhao Ru looked at him and chuckled. “Give it to your brother and sister.”

“You eat,” he insisted, raising his small hand. “Jiang Bei already gave some to them.”

Zhao Ru turned to check, then smiled and ate the peanut.

“Is it good, Mother?” Jiang Nan asked, face upturned.

“It’s delicious,” Zhao Ru said warmly.

Nearby, Jiang Ji and Jiang Xia were also enjoying the peanuts Jiang Bei had shared.

The twins stopped after three each, as told, and waited for the real feast.

“Xia, start the big pot,” Zhao Ru said briskly. She chopped the radish into slices, washed the meat, and cut the fat and lean parts separately.

When the fire was ready, she tossed the fat into the pot.

The sizzle of rendering fat filled the kitchen, and soon the rich aroma of pork wafted through the air.

“Smells so good~”

Jiang Nan stood by the stove, staring into the pot and swallowing hard.

Beside him, Jiang Bei sniffed the air greedily. “So good…”

Jiang Xia, tending the fire, peeked into the pot too.

Jiang Ji looked at his siblings, who hadn’t tasted meat in months, and sighed inwardly. They were so pitiful.

When the fat had crisped into golden cracklings, Zhao Ru scooped them out, saving the oil. She poured the rendered oil into a jar, left a little in the pot, and stir-fried the lean pork with salt. Half went on the table, half saved for tomorrow.

The radish stew took a bit longer. By the time it was done, the rice was ready too.

On the small wooden table sat two bowls of stir-fried pork with radish, along with a pot of wild vegetable soup.

The whole family gathered around, each with a bowl of steaming white rice.

“All right, let’s eat,” Zhao Ru said, serving everyone rice and placing a piece of meat in each child’s bowl.

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei immediately bit into their pieces—the savory fried pork cracklings soaked in gravy filled their mouths with rich flavor.

“Mother, it’s so good!” Jiang Nan said, his eyes sparkling.

Smiling, Zhao Ru nodded and added a slice of radish to his bowl. “Eat the radish and rice too.”

“Mhm!” Jiang Nan scooped up a big mouthful of rice, followed it with a piece of radish, chewed, and said through his full mouth, “The rice and radish are so good too!”

Jiang Bei nodded in agreement. “It’s so good I could cry.”

The whole family laughed.

Zhao Ru savored a bite of white rice, swallowed, and said, “Xiao Ji, this rice tastes much better than what we grow ourselves—it’s so fragrant.”

“Maybe it’s a new variety from another region?” Jiang Xia guessed.

Zhao Ru thought for a moment. “Xiao Ji, ask that steward tomorrow where they bought it. If possible, we should try to get some of those rice seeds.”

Jiang Ji glanced at his mother—quick thinker. But this rice came from the system, modern high-grade rice, far better than anything grown in this era.

“Alright, I’ll ask tomorrow,” he said.

He truly liked this rice too: plump and glossy grains, soft and slightly sticky, smooth in texture, and fragrant beyond compare.

The system would eventually unlock seeds; with steady streaming, he could plant them later.

It was the family’s first proper meal in a long time—fluffy white rice, tender radish soaked with meat juices, and the savory aroma of fried pork.

Each of them ate two bowls. The large pot of rice was soon scraped clean, every last bit of food gone—even the gravy at the bottom was mixed with rice and eaten.

When they finished, everyone leaned back, hands on full bellies, sighing in satisfaction.

It was so delicious.

Seeing their smiling faces, Jiang Ji felt a strange rush of accomplishment—a deep, warm satisfaction.

This was the first meal he had earned for them through his own effort.

While they were eating, his livestream had been running the entire time. After the meal, he finally checked—and was stunned to see nearly 1,000 viewers watching live.

Even more shocking, the tip counter had exploded: over 12,593 rice icons and more than 600 peanuts—and still climbing.

Jiang Ji blinked. “What the… what just happened?”

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Ch 3: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

Jiang Ji asked urgently, “System, is the livestream on yet?”

【My designation is No. 2977. You may address me by that.】

“Yeah, yeah, whatever—just start it already! I need to make money—no, I mean rice and pork!”

【Stream activated. As long as your eyes are open, the broadcast runs automatically. Close your eyes for more than three seconds to pause; for more than one minute to end the stream. When daily viewership reaches 100,000 views, independent broadcast control will unlock.】

Jiang Ji: “Wait—if I blink, won’t the picture freeze?”

【Blinking is too brief to affect the feed.】

“Oh… what’s this ‘independent control’ thing?”

【It allows you to start or end a broadcast at will.】

“Got it.”

A translucent screen appeared before his eyes—the livestream interface. The feed showed exactly what he was seeing: the dirt floor of the courtyard. No more system overlay.

He glanced at the viewer count: 0.

Huh? He’d been live for minutes already—why was no one watching?

After poking around, he smacked his forehead—the stream didn’t even have a title yet, just a random string of numbers.

He needed a name that would grab attention, something that made people click instantly.

After rubbing his chin in thought, he finally settled on one.

He changed the title to: 【Young Master Jiang Livestreams Ancient Life!】

Satisfied, he submitted it and sat on the doorstep, waiting for viewers.

One minute. Two minutes…

Ten minutes passed—still zero viewers.

Jiang Ji frowned. Why no audience?

Maybe the title wasn’t flashy enough?

“System, system—can we buy a spot on the front-page recommendations?”

【A front-page slot costs 1,000 points.】

Points were earned from viewership—100 views equaled 1 point, and 1 point could be exchanged for 1 jin of rice.

Right now he had 0 points. No points meant no promotion, no promotion meant no viewers, and no viewers meant no points.

A perfect dead loop.

“Can I, uh… get an advance?”

【This system does not extend credit.】

Jiang Ji’s eyes widened. “Even banks give loans!”

【This system does not extend credit. Please earn points through your own effort.】

Jiang Ji: …

Without promotion, a new streamer was buried somewhere in a digital back-corner. To get noticed, he’d have to take a more extreme approach.

First step: a more eye-catching title—bait them in first, figure out the rest later.

The last one wasn’t strong enough. He paced the yard, frowning in thought.

Five minutes later, inspiration struck.

He retitled the stream: 【Help! I Time-Traveled to Ancient Times—Send Food!】

“So shameless—begging for food outright. If CEO Jiang saw this, he’d die of rage,” he muttered.

No sooner had he finished speaking—Viewer Count: 1.

Jiang Ji: !

Someone joined!

He quickly cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, my friend! Welcome to my stream!”

The moment he spoke—Viewer Count: 0.

Jiang Ji: ?

What the—why’d they leave?!

He stared, bewildered. So the title worked, but why had they clicked off so fast?

Maybe the content? Or the angle—he’d been pointing at the ground the whole time.

Just then, another viewer entered.

No time to think—he had to keep this one!

“Brother, help! I’ve time-traveled to ancient times!” Jiang Ji dashed out of the courtyard, turning back to show his shabby thatched hut. “See this dump? I’m broke! We’re eating bran and weeds! Can you bring more people to watch the stream?”

A single question mark floated across the chat.

Jiang Ji quickly said, “You don’t believe me, right? It’s true! I’ll show you my home.”

As he walked, he kept glancing at the transparent screen showing the stream. The viewer count was still 1 — that same person hadn’t left.

He hadn’t planned any fancy content, so he decided to just be genuine. “I crossed over this morning,” he explained. “My big villa turned into a thatched hut in an instant — scared me half to death. I thought I was dreaming.”

【Came here for the title, but gotta say, bro, your set’s pretty realistic. Finding a place this run-down must’ve taken effort.】

Jiang Ji saw the message on the screen. The text was too long and cut off halfway, so he checked the comments below and read it fully.

“Brother, I swear I’m not lying. These aren’t props — we really live here. Come on, I’ll show you my mother.”

He walked to the kitchen and called out at the door, “Mother.”

Zhao Ru was doing embroidery and looked up. “What is it?”

Jiang Ji stepped closer, glanced at the cloth in her hands, and asked, “Mother, what are you embroidering?”

“Lotuses.”

Zhao Ru was almost finished. On the fabric, green lotus leaves spread out gracefully; beside them, two blossoms — one budding, one in full bloom — with a dragonfly resting on a petal. The image was vivid and lifelike.

“Mother, that’s really beautiful,” Jiang Ji said sincerely.

“You child,” Zhao Ru smiled, clearly pleased by his praise.

【Even hired an actress, huh? Not bad acting either.】

Jiang Ji: …

He walked out of the kitchen to explain. “That’s my actual mother — the mother of this body! Not an actress. I’ve got younger siblings too — come on, I’ll show you! They’re right outside.”

【Alright, I’ll bite.】

“There, see? Pulling weeds.” Jiang Ji pointed at the chive patch. “One sister, two brothers — the twins.”

“Jiang Nan! Jiang Bei!” he called out.

“Brother! You’re not resting?” Jiang Nan looked up from the field. “You should go lie down, or your head won’t heal.”

“Can’t sleep,” Jiang Ji replied.

【What’s wrong with your head?】

Jiang Ji walked a bit farther away and lowered his voice. “…The original owner died. I think I took over his body. When I arrived, I’d hit my head — there’s still a big lump back there.”

【Oh, nice story. Show us your head then.】

“Can’t do that, brother. You know how I’m streaming?”

【How?】

“Everything you’re seeing — it’s through my eyes. My eyes are the camera, so I can’t show my own head. Makes sense now?”

【Yeah right, keep talking.】

At that moment, another viewer entered the stream.

【What’s this? Why’s the camera shaking so much?】

【He says he time-traveled to ancient times and we’re seeing what his eyes see — no camera, no gear.】

【What’s that supposed to mean? His eyes are cameras? Stop joking.】

【See? I’m not the only one who doesn’t buy it.】

A third viewer joined, and Jiang Ji brightened.

He waved his hands in front of his face. “Come on, don’t doubt me! Look — both hands right here!”

【Probably strapped the camera to your head.】

“Ah, I told you, you won’t believe me anyway.” Jiang Ji glanced at the live screen. The view really didn’t look like a normal stream.

He thought for a moment. “Right — if this were a phone or a real camera, the screen would be square, right? Now look closely — what shape is the picture you’re seeing?”

【…】
【Huh?】

“What is it? Tell me — I’m curious too. What shape does it look like to you?” he asked, pretending ignorance.

【It’s curved… sometimes turns into a circle.】
【Did you cover the lens with paper or something?】

“Haven’t even seen any paper since I got here. Does the picture change? Then I’ve got no idea why — but whatever you’re seeing is what I’m actually seeing.”

【Turns round when it focuses.】
【Wait… are you really in ancient times?】

Maybe the odd visuals convinced them a bit, because their tone changed. Jiang Ji, feeling encouraged, said eagerly, “Of course! Look at those farmhouses in the distance. You think I could build a whole village of thatched huts just for a stream?”

【How can you prove it? Maybe you’re filming in a historical movie set.】
【Yeah, studios have tons of those old-style buildings.】

“That’s easy,” Jiang Ji said. “I’ll take you for a look! This isn’t the only village like this — it’s the same everywhere. You can name a direction; even a film set has its limits, right?”

【Alright, let’s go.】

“Hold on, brothers, I’ve got one condition.”

【Say it.】

“If I prove I’m really in ancient times, each of you has to bring at least ten new viewers, deal?”

【If you’re actually in ancient times, forget ten — I’ll bring fifty.】
【Same here.】

“Good! Fifty each, deal!” Jiang Ji said excitedly. Then he turned to shout toward the field, “Xia’er, I’m going out for a bit! Tell Mother I’ll be back before dark!”

Jiang Xia stood up, looking worried. “Brother, your head’s still not healed — where are you going?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll just walk nearby.”

【What’s wrong with his head?】
【He said he hit it hard, the original guy died, and he took over the body.】
【…Writing a novel, are we?】

Jiang Ji walked toward the edge of the village, chatting with his few viewers as he went.

“It’s true. Our village is called Shanqian Village — about eighty families. See? Every house has people in it. You think I could hire this many extras?”

【Why’s it so rural then? Your production team running out of budget?】

Another viewer entered. Jiang Ji perked up instantly. “Welcome, my friend! This isn’t a film set — this is real life in ancient times!”

【?】

【He said he’s going to prove he’s really in ancient times.】

【For real? Not just a film set?】

【We’ll see soon enough.】

“Exactly, you’ll see soon enough.” Jiang Ji had already reached the entrance of the village. “Alright, brothers, left or right? If we go left, we’ll pass three more villages and reach the main road that leads to the town. To the right—well, I’ve no idea where that goes. The body’s original owner only ever went seven or eight villages that way.”

【Left】
【Right】
【I want to see what the town looks like】

“Majority rules—so today, left. Tomorrow, we’ll go right.”

Jiang Ji started down the left path, chatting as he walked about how he’d crossed over.

A new viewer joined halfway through, completely confused. The first viewer who’d entered kindly explained the whole situation again.

【You can’t seriously believe this. It’s just a gimmick for the stream.】
【I know. That’s why I’m watching—to see how he’s going to end this act.】

After about ten minutes, Jiang Ji reached another village. He walked around, showing the viewers the scene.

“See? Every house has people living in it. The fields are full of workers too. If they were all actors, imagine how much that would cost!”

Then he suddenly stopped mid-sentence, eyes brightening. “Brothers, you can understand me, right? You’re from China? Could one of you contact my father for me? His name’s Jiang Jianguo, chairman of Boyuan Group in Jing City. His number is 139XXXXXXXX. Please tell him his son Jiang Ji—‘Ji’ as in ‘lonely’—is streaming right now. Have him come watch! He’ll reward you for sure!”

【China? Never heard of it. We’re from the Aibor Alliance.】
【Our phone numbers don’t even use that kind of format.】
【Wait, what? You’re not from our country?】
【??】

Jiang Ji was stunned. “You… you’re from what country? I’ve never heard of that! My planet was called Blue Star. What’s yours?”

【Planet Aibor】
【What’s Blue Star? Never heard of it】
【Our main planet’s called Aibor, and our secondary one’s Melair】

Jiang Ji: !

Completely dumbfounded. “What the—! You’re not even from the same planet? Or the same era?!”

【!】
【Now that’s taking the story too far】
【Different planets? Wow, your imagination’s something else】

“Wait, let me ask the system.”

Right in front of the viewers, he prepared to question it. What was it called again? Something-2…?

Whatever. He called out, “Xiao Er! Xiao Er!”

No reply.

“System! System!”

【My designation is 2977.】

“Right, 2977! Tell me—these viewers, aren’t they from my original world?”

【Viewers are randomly selected.】

“Randomly selected? They’re saying they’re from Planet Aibor. Where is that?”

【Planet Aibor is a distant civilization in the universe, far from your original home planet. Its technological level is slightly more advanced than your own.】

“There really is a Planet Aibor?” Jiang Ji’s hope of contacting his father shattered. “Then how can they understand me? And how can I read their messages?”

【Automatic translation by the system.】

Jiang Ji: Got it.

【What’s he mumbling about now?】
【He says he crossed over and bound to some kind of livestream system.】
【So many layers to the story—time travel, ancient setting, system, now aliens? The streamer’s definitely writing fiction.】

Dejected, Jiang Ji explained to the viewers what he’d just learned from 2977.

【You’re really committed to the role.】
【Haha, no lie—I actually want to see how he ends this now.】
【This script’s getting wild.】

Jiang Ji sighed. “Alright, let’s keep walking. Come on, brothers—help me out, spread the word! Get more people in here. Only seven viewers right now; a crowd makes things fun!”

【Prove you’re really in ancient times first, then I’ll bring people.】

“Deal. Let’s keep going.”

As he passed through the second village, he showed them around again.

“Now tell me, with all these thatched houses and all these people, you really think they’re all actors? Look—they’re farming! Working! If this were a movie set, wouldn’t there be modern stuff somewhere?”

He gestured around. “See any modern clothes? Any cars? Phones? Cameramen? I’ve walked this far and haven’t seen a single person out of place. If this were a film lot, that’d be impossible.”

【…】
【Holy crap, there really aren’t any modern people.】
【Could it actually be ancient times?】
【No way, that’s impossible.】

Suddenly, Jiang Ji felt an urgent need to pee. He spotted an older man nearby and hurried over.

“Uncle, excuse me—where’s the toilet?”

The man looked confused. “What?”

“Uh—outhouse! Where’s the outhouse?”

“There.” The man pointed.

“Thanks, Uncle.” Jiang Ji ran toward it. “Brothers, I need to take a quick bathroom break—pause—yue!”

The moment he opened the door, the stench hit him so hard he gagged and stumbled back.

“Holy crap, that’s disgusting!”

【Dude, I’m eating right now—could you not point the camera in there?!】
【He said his eyes are the camera. You want him to take them out or what?】
【Ugh, that’s nasty.】
【Wait, that’s an actual pit latrine?!】
【I remember those from my grandma’s village when I was little—haven’t seen one in years.】

Jiang Ji didn’t care what they were saying—he really had to pee, but the smell was unbearable. No way was he going in there.

He found another outhouse. Same thing. Then another. Still just as awful.

【Streamer, please, just go behind the trees!】

【Can you pause the feed? I seriously can’t handle this anymore.】

Jiang Ji was desperate too. He glanced around—nothing but those reeking outhouses everywhere. If he went in, he’d probably pass out from the fumes.

So he turned and sprinted toward the grove nearby.

“I’m closing my eyes for three seconds to pause the stream—don’t leave, okay? I’m about to explode here!”

Three seconds later, the screen froze—but didn’t go black.

【Whoa, it really paused?】
【New here—why isn’t the image moving?】
【Streamer’s taking a leak.】
【Outdoors?】
【Bro, good thing you joined late. You missed the gross part.】
【What happened?】
【Don’t ask. Just… watch the replay later if you dare.】

After a short while, the picture moved again.

“Alright, all done! You guys still here?” Jiang Ji came out of the grove completely relaxed. “Man, ancient times are brutal. Even taking a piss is a whole ordeal.”

【What, the forest wasn’t good enough for you?】
【Honestly, I’d take a grove over those pit toilets too.】

Chatting as he walked, Jiang Ji reached the main road. “To the right’s the way to town. Left leads to another town, pretty far though. Which way do you want me to go?”

【Left】【Right】
【Left! The unexpected direction makes it feel more real.】

Left it was.

He started walking down the left-hand path.

Then 2977’s voice chimed in suddenly.

【Congratulations, host. Viewership has reached 10. First system task complete. Reward: one jin of rice. Viewer reward item unlocked: Rice.】

Jiang Ji: !

He immediately opened the system panel—sure enough, the task was marked complete.

“2977, if I click to claim the reward, will the rice appear right away?”

【Yes.】

“Will it come in something, like a bag?”

【Yes.】

Jiang Ji’s eyes lit up. “Brothers and sisters! You don’t believe I’ve got a system? Well, here’s your proof!”

【How are you gonna prove it?】
【Show us then.】

“I just finished the first mission—reward’s a jin of rice. Look! My hands are empty, right? In a second I’ll tap to claim the reward, and the rice will appear out of nowhere!”

【Haha, what is this now—teleporting props?】
【I don’t buy it. Go on, show us.】

Jiang Ji crouched down. “Don’t blink! Watch closely—”

He was trembling with excitement. He waved both hands in front of him to show they were empty, then tapped the invisible interface to claim the reward.

In the next instant, a small cloth pouch appeared in his left hand.

【!】
【Holy crap!】
【Did I just hallucinate?】
【Oh my god, it really appeared!】

Jiang Ji’s eyes lit up. He untied the pouch—inside was pure, white rice.

Finally—no more bran cakes!

“See that? It’s rice! Real rice!” he laughed triumphantly. “You saw it just now—it appeared out of thin air, didn’t it?”

【You seriously have a system?】
【This is insane.】
【Did someone throw that to you? I didn’t even blink, didn’t see anyone.】
【Can anyone explain this scientifically?!】

“It’s real!” Jiang Ji tied the bag shut and held it up proudly. “And there’s more—the first reward item is now unlocked. Come on, brothers, let’s go!”

【There really is a donation item.】
【Wait, why is the donation item… rice?】

“Ah, probably because the system saw how poor we are,” Jiang Ji said. “We can barely eat, so both the rewards and donations are rice—the thing we need most.”

【Huh, it’s cheap—ten cents a piece.】
【Alright then, take some.】

“Thanks for the donation, my good man! After walking this far, I’ve earned it! Keep ‘em coming, brothers!”

He kept walking while talking. “You don’t know what I ate at noon—bran cakes! You know what that is? The husk left after milling rice, pressed into cakes.”

“They still mill rice by hand here, not like those smooth modern machines. It’s coarse, dry—man, it choked me till I teared up… absolutely disgusting!”

【Congratulations, host. Viewership has reached 100. Second system task complete. Reward: one jin of pork. Viewer reward item unlocked: Peanuts.】

He had only been rambling for a bit when the viewer count jumped from 10 to 102—and it was still climbing fast.

Jiang Ji: !

Pork—secured!

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Ch 2: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

Amid a chorus of “Hail—Hail—” Jiang Ji and the others were ushered into the hall; everyone knelt.

Jiang Ji felt a little resistant to kneeling, but when in Rome… In ancient times, failing to kneel in the magistrate’s hall was seen as great disrespect—and would get you the cane.

Not wanting to be beaten, he knelt.

Above the county yamen’s main hall hung a large plaque that read “A Clear Mirror Hangs High.” Below it sat the magistrate’s bench where the county magistrate tried cases. To the left was a desk for clerks to record the proceedings. Attendants stood on either side, their long staves thudding on the floor as they intoned “Hail.”

“The magistrate has arrived—silence!”

The attendants’ chant stopped. The county magistrate took his seat behind the desk and struck the gavel once.

“Crack!” The sound rang out sharply, as if striking the conscience of everyone present; the people in the hall flinched and fell silent.

“Who kneels below the hall, and for what matter?”

Jiang Ji looked up. The magistrate appeared to be in his forties, lean and austere, wearing his official robe with an air of authority.

“Your honor, this commoner is Jiang Ji from Shanqian Village in the western part of the county. I accuse fellow villager Li Laosan. In broad daylight he tried to seize and assault my younger sister. My sister is only thirteen—this beastly dog of a man tried to defile her. The incident happened this morning; I beg your honor to hear my full statement.”

“Speak.”

Jiang Ji then recounted the morning’s events in full. When he finished he bowed once—an imitation of what he’d seen in dramas—and said, “Please, great official, vindicate this commoner and my sister.”

The magistrate studied the young man; Jiang Ji’s eyes were clear, his speech steady, his account orderly and convincing.

“And who is Li Laosan?”

Startled by the magistrate’s gavel, Li Laosan nearly wet himself. He trembled on the ground and didn’t dare look up. “I—I am Li Laosan, commoner.”

“Lift your head.”

Li Laosan shakily raised his eyes and met the magistrate’s gaze for a moment, then quickly bowed his head again.

“Li Laosan, is what Jiang Ji says true?”

Li Laosan lay on the floor shivering; he couldn’t form his words clearly. The magistrate, seeing him stammer, raised the gavel and struck it down again.

Crack!

Li Laosan jolted.

“Li Laosan, I ask you once more: are the accusations true? Confess honestly!”

Terrified, Li Laosan shrank back, refusing to speak. Jin Hua at the rear shouted, “That’s not true, Your Honor—my son did not assault Jiang Xia!”

Smack—!

“Who spoke? Give your name.”

Jin Hua trembled. Her former swagger in the village had vanished; even her voice quavered. “I—I am Jin Hua, Li Laosan’s mother.”

“You claim Li Laosan did not assault her—were you present at the scene?”

“N—no.”

“If you were not there, why do you speak?” The magistrate looked toward Li Laosan. “I’ll give you one more chance to defend yourself.”

Li Laosan shook like a sieve. “I’m innocent—this commoner is wrong—please, Your Honor, spare me.”

Jiang Ji immediately said, “Your Honor, my sister has marks from his grip on her wrist; his right wrist bears a bite mark from my sister; and Aunt Xiufang heard my sister’s cries for help.”

Jin Hua shouted back, “The bite mark is from him biting himself! The marks on Xia’er are from Jiang Ji grabbing her, not my son!”

The magistrate was not so easily fooled. The attendants checked the evidence one by one, then Aunt Xiufang and other villagers were summoned to the hall to testify. In the end the facts were clear.

“Li Laosan, do you have anything more to say?”

Li Laosan’s face went ashen. After the magistrate’s final pressure he confessed fully: “I—I was wrong. Please, Your Honor, have mercy…”

When the hearing concluded, the magistrate announced the ruling on the spot: “In the case of Jiang Ji of Shanqian Village accusing fellow villager Li Laosan of attempted assault upon his sister Jiang Xia—after on-the-spot examination, the evidence is conclusive and without doubt. According to the laws of our realm, I hereby sentence: Li Laosan of Shanqian Village—attempted assault upon Jiang Xia, punish with one hundred strokes of the bamboo and exile three thousand li.”

“As for his mother Jin Hua, for failing to properly teach her child, flouting the laws of the realm, and willfully deceiving the court—drag her away and administer ten strokes of the board as a warning to others.”

“Court dismissed!”

The magistrate’s sentence had barely fallen when Li Laosan went white and wet himself in fear; Jin Hua burst into tears, crying that she’d been wronged, but the constables had already dragged her away for punishment.

Jiang Ji helped Jiang Xia and Zhao Ru to their feet, and together with the village chief they watched as Jin Hua and Li Laosan were taken off.

When they left the yamen, the village chief and the others wiped sweat from their foreheads. The county magistrate’s authority was terrifying; it was everyone’s first time in court, and they were still shaken.

“One hundred strokes—Li Laosan might not survive that.”

“He deserved it. He once even set his eyes on my daughter.”

“And Jin Hua got ten strokes herself—serves her right!” Aunt Xiufang grabbed Zhao Ru’s hand. “Let’s see if they dare bully anyone again.”

Zhao Ru still felt a lingering chill but couldn’t help feeling satisfied. “Yes, evil meets its own end.”

Aunt Xiufang looked at Jiang Ji admiringly. “Never would’ve guessed—quiet little Ji turned out so brave when it mattered!”

Jiang Ji rubbed his head. “Auntie, don’t tease me.”

Jiang Xia stood beside her brother, feeling safe and at ease.

“Alright, that’s enough—everyone head home,” the village chief said, waving for the crowd to disperse.

Zhao Ru stepped forward to thank him. “Thank you, Village Chief. Thank you, everyone.”

“No need to thank us,” the chief replied. “You were right. He needed to be taught a lesson, or this village would never have peace.”

They all returned to the village. The trial had gone quickly; it was only just past noon. Everyone went home for lunch.

Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia busied themselves cooking, while the twins, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei, clung to Jiang Ji, begging him to tell them what it was like in court. They were too young—Zhao Ru hadn’t allowed them to go and had asked a neighbor to watch them instead.

Sitting by the doorway, Jiang Ji told them the whole story.

The two boys listened with shining eyes, firing off questions: What did the magistrate look like? What was the court like? Were the officers really that fierce?

Jiang Ji answered them one by one.

Before long, lunch was ready. Zhao Ru called everyone to eat.

Because it was winter and no one in the countryside could afford coal, most families ate by the stove to keep warm.

Jiang Ji went inside. A small pot sat on the hearth, bubbling and steaming.

Beside it was a low table. Jiang Nan had already curled up beside the fire, warming himself and waiting eagerly for food.

Zhao Ru lifted the lid, and a cloud of steam filled the room. She deftly picked up the steamed cakes from the white cloth and placed them in a big bowl.

Jiang Ji leaned over to look. They were palm-sized, brownish cakes mixed with bits of green vegetables.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously.

Everyone turned to look at him. Jiang Nan stood up. “It’s bran cakes, brother—did you forget?”

Bran cakes? Jiang Ji had never even heard of such a thing.

He rubbed his nose awkwardly. “Oh, right—bran cakes. Just slipped my mind for a second.”

Zhao Ru set the cakes on the table and said worriedly, “After we eat, we’ll find a doctor to check your head—make sure you didn’t hurt it badly.”

Jiang Ji quickly said, “No need—it’ll be fine in a few days.”

“No, we’ll have it checked. Eat first.”

Looking at her face—so much like his mother’s—he nodded. “Alright.”

The kitchen was much warmer than outside thanks to the fire, though a bit smoky.

Jiang Ji sat on a small stool and stretched his hands toward the flames.

Zhao Ru brought the little table to the center. The family gathered around. In the pot was wild-vegetable soup; Zhao Ru ladled a bowl for each of them. The bran cakes were the main course.

“Eat. They’re fresh out of the pot—be careful, they’re hot,” Zhao Ru said, placing one cake into each twin’s bowl.

“Got it, mother,” the brothers chorused, then began eating seriously.

Jiang Nan took a big bite, yelped from the heat, and puffed out his cheeks, hissing.

Jiang Bei laughed. “Mother told you it was hot. You had to rush—burned yourself, didn’t you?”

When the food in his mouth cooled a bit, Jiang Nan swallowed it whole. “I was hungry!”

Zhao Ru said gently, “Eat slower.”

“Okay, mother.” Chastened, Jiang Nan blew on the cake and took small bites, then commented, “Today’s wild veggies aren’t as bitter as yesterday’s.”

Jiang Ji watched them eat, a little dazed.

Just a few bran cakes and a bowl of wild-vegetable soup?

That was it?

“Xiao Ji, what’s wrong? Does your head hurt too much to eat?” Zhao Ru asked when she saw him sitting there motionless. (T/N: Xiao = little/endearing term)

“…No, I’ll eat.”

Jiang Ji shook his head. From the memories of this body, he recalled that before the new year Zhao Ru had caught a cold that turned into a high fever. The village doctor couldn’t cure it, so the original Jiang Ji had taken her to town.

The medicine had been expensive. With little money left, he’d sold their stored grain and even all the cabbages and radishes from their field to pay for it—saving Zhao Ru’s life but leaving her weak and still coughing.

Now, the family had almost nothing left to eat except the coarse rice bran from old husks—no more radishes or cabbages, not even grain.

Jiang Ji was actually starving. He picked up a bran cake and took a bite, chewed twice, then frowned and spat it out.

It was coarse, hard, dry, with a bitter aftertaste from the wild greens.

Was this even edible?!

His reaction drew everyone’s eyes again.

“What’s wrong? Can’t you eat? Does your head hurt worse?” Zhao Ru asked anxiously.

Jiang Ji frowned. It really was inedible—but seeing their worried faces, he couldn’t say that. He mumbled, “No… it’s just too hot.”

Zhao Ru smiled gently. “Then eat slowly.”

Jiang Ji nodded, tried a sip of the soup—it was bitter, barely salty, and had no trace of oil.

He forced down a mouthful, but it was hard to swallow. His stomach rumbled loudly; the body’s owner had eaten only a bowl of wild-vegetable soup that morning and gone through so much since. He was starving.

Looking around the table, Jiang Ji saw Zhao Ru’s sallow, frail face and the children’s thin, bony frames—their hair dry and yellow, their height stunted. The signs of long-term malnutrition were painfully clear.

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei were only six years old—an age when children were usually the pickiest eaters. Yet the two calmly ate their bran cakes and wild vegetables without even frowning. When crumbs fell on the table, they picked them up and ate them too.

Watching Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia, whose faces so closely resembled his own mother and sister, Jiang Ji’s nose stung; his heart felt heavy.

Their life was far too bitter.

His stomach growled again, hunger twisting painfully inside him.

There was nothing else to eat at home. Whether this meal, the next, or the one after that—it would still be bran cakes and wild vegetables.

Afraid of passing out from low blood sugar, Jiang Ji took a deep breath and silently picked up a bran cake for another bite.

God, it was awful—coarse, dry, and bitter. Even though the rice bran had been ground as fine as possible, it was still hard to swallow.

His eyes burned. His chest ached. Still, he forced himself to chew and swallow a little at a time, brow furrowed.

He thought about the meals he’d had before crossing over—spotted grouper, giant lobster, A5 wagyu beef—and his eyes nearly filled with tears.

Was this Heaven’s way of sending him to some ancient “life transformation” show?

Using the wild-vegetable soup to wash it down, Jiang Ji finally choked down one whole bran cake.

【Ding——】

【“Farmers weeding at noon, sweat drips onto the soil below. Who knows, in the bowl of food, every grain is won with toil.” Congratulations, Mr. Jiang Ji. You have become the 89,989th host of the Farming System. Unit No. 2977 is honored to serve you.】

Jiang Ji: ??

System?

What system?

【Identity binding complete. Background data loading… estimated time: 60 minutes. Please wait patiently, Host.】

Jiang Ji: !

Could this be one of those systems from novels?

He sat up straight, suddenly energized. If so, he’d just landed himself a golden cheat!

Usually, systems like this let you earn skills or items by completing missions. That meant maybe—just maybe—there was hope ahead.

He just didn’t know what kind of system he had yet.

An hour. In one hour, he’d find out!

His earlier gloom vanished, replaced by excitement.

Jiang Xia blinked up at him with her big round eyes. Why was her brother’s mood swinging so much today? Sad one moment, happy the next.

With food and warm soup in his stomach, Jiang Ji finally felt a little better—though still only half full. The heat from the soup spread through his body, but then his pinky fingers began to itch.

He looked down and saw they were red and swollen.

He froze. Could that be… frostbite?

Young Master Jiang, raised in silk and luxury, had never even seen frostbite before. Curious, he touched it—it itched terribly. He scratched.

“Brother, don’t scratch. It’ll be hard to heal if it breaks,” Jiang Bei warned.

Jiang Ji looked at the boy’s small dark hands, covered with frostbite marks. Jiang Nan’s were the same.

All from the cold.

Jiang Ji sighed and glanced at his own hands—rough, the palms thick with calluses, marks of long, hard labor.

He sighed inwardly. His once smooth, elegant hands—gone just like that.

Wait. He suddenly froze, then reached up to touch his face. No pimples—but definitely not smooth either.

He looked down at Jiang Bei. “Am I dark?”

Jiang Bei blinked, not understanding why his brother would ask that, but he answered honestly. “You’re lighter now. Winter makes you paler.”

“…” Jiang Ji looked at the twins’ dark little faces. If this was “paler,” then his idea of “white” must have been a whole different concept.

Right, he hadn’t actually seen what this body looked like yet.

He recalled that his mother had a small bronze mirror—it was part of her wedding dowry.

“Mo—” Jiang Ji almost said “Mom,” then quickly corrected himself. “…Mother.”

The word made his throat tighten, and his chest filled with a strange warmth. It really felt like his mother had come back to life.

He thought to himself: I have a mother again.

“Hm?” Zhao Ru was washing dishes in the pot. She looked up. “What is it?”

Jiang Ji smiled slightly. “I want to check my head—can I use your little bronze mirror?”

“Go ahead. It’s in the room.”

Jiang Ji went inside.

Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia shared a room. Against the wall stood a small, old dressing table, bought when Zhao Ru married.

The bronze mirror lay face down on the tabletop.

Jiang Ji picked it up and peered into it. The reflection was warped, making his face look like a monster’s.

Jiang Ji: …

Still, he could make out the general shape—this body looked quite a lot like his original one.

Same name, same face—maybe that was why he’d ended up here.

Soon after, Jiang Nan came home with a doctor. The doctor checked Jiang Ji’s pulse and prescribed several packets of medicine for swelling and bruises.

“Mother, we shouldn’t waste money on this,” Jiang Ji said.

“No. Don’t you remember? Head injuries can’t be ignored. Last year, someone from the next village hit his head, thought it was nothing, didn’t see a doctor—and died.”

Jiang Ji blinked. The memory surfaced—it was true.

Right. This was ancient times, when even a cold could be fatal. With medicine and treatment so poor, a head injury could easily be deadly if there was bleeding inside.

He said no more.

Zhao Ru began boiling the medicine, and Jiang Ji stepped outside.

It was early spring, still cold and damp.

His hands were freezing. With no pockets in these old-fashioned clothes, he tucked them into his sleeves and leaned against the courtyard gate, looking out over the village.

The place was called Shanqian Village, home to more than eighty families—a fairly large settlement, mainly of two clans: the Jiangs and the Lis, the Lis being more numerous.

Looking around, he saw mostly wooden and thatched houses. Only two or three were brick and tile. In front of them stretched wide fields, where a few people worked the land.

Then he spotted Jiang Xia in a nearby field, pulling weeds.

That girl was truly hardworking—she’d barely finished lunch and was already out tending the crops.

Jiang Ji walked over. According to the memories in his head, this little patch of land was planted with chives. They had been harvested once before the new year, and now fresh green shoots had just started growing—about the same height as the weeds beside them.

He crouched down to help pull the weeds.

“Brother, you’re still hurt. Go rest, I’ll do it,” Jiang Xia said when she saw him. “I’ll finish soon.”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Ji replied casually. In truth, he was thinking about that system, waiting to see what it really was.

When she realized he wouldn’t listen, Jiang Xia said nothing more. Her small hands moved quickly, deftly plucking weeds and picking out the edible wild greens to toss into a little basket nearby.

This small chive patch was all the family had left. In another month, once it grew tall enough to harvest, they could sell it for a bit of bran money.

“Ah—Brother, why are you pulling up the chives?” Jiang Xia glanced over and noticed that he’d just uprooted a few.

“Huh?” Jiang Ji looked at the handful of green stalks in his hand. “I didn’t pull chives.”

Weren’t they all just grass?

Jiang Xia plucked two green stalks from his hand. “Look.”

Jiang Ji looked at the chives in her hand, then back at the grass in his: …

They looked exactly the same. Practically no difference!

But he didn’t argue. The real Jiang Ji would never have mistaken chives for weeds.

“Oh, I didn’t notice. Must’ve pulled the wrong one,” he said, making an excuse.

Jiang Xia placed the chives back into the basket without a word and quietly picked out the edible greens from the pile of weeds he had pulled.

After a while, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei came running over.

“Big Brother, Second Sister, we’re here too!” Jiang Bei squatted next to him. Before he even started, he exclaimed, “Big Brother, you pulled up the chives!”

Jiang Ji: ?

He looked at the handful of bright green stalks. “Where?”

Jiang Bei fished one out from the weeds beside him. “You even pulled it out by the roots!”

“…” Jiang Ji blinked at the nearly identical stalks of chive and weed. “…Then plant it back.”

And Jiang Bei actually dug a little hole and replanted it carefully.

Jiang Ji looked over the patch—both weeds and chives were about the same lush green, ten or twelve centimeters tall. The weeds growing between the rows he could manage to pull, but the ones tangled among the chives? He really couldn’t tell them apart.

And there were several kinds of weeds—some looked exactly like chives. After squinting and comparing for a while, he concluded: maybe chive leaves were thicker? Roots a little whiter?

“Brother, you pulled another one,” Jiang Xia said anxiously, seeing more chives in his hand. “Brother, are you sure your head’s alright? Maybe your eyes were hurt?”

Jiang Ji: …

Struck down again and again, Jiang Ji gave up. He tossed the grass aside, clapped the dirt from his hands, and stood.

“You guys pull them. I’m going back!”

Chives, weeds—whatever! Let whoever wants to pull them, pull them!

Was this even a human life?

He, Young Master Jiang, had never suffered like this!

He stormed off without looking back.

The three siblings stared after him blankly.

Jiang Nan whispered, “What’s wrong with Brother? He’s never pulled up chives before.”

Jiang Bei murmured, “Maybe he really did hurt his head.”

All three looked worriedly at their big brother’s retreating figure.

Jiang Ji, fuming, went home. He washed his hands at the doorway and sat by the stove to warm himself.

Zhao Ru was sitting nearby, tending the boiling medicine while doing embroidery. Her stitching was skillful—she usually embroidered handkerchiefs to sell in town for a bit of extra money.

Seeing his sour expression, Zhao Ru asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jiang Ji muttered.

He just felt… defeated. Even six-year-old Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei could tell chives from weeds, and he couldn’t.

Zhao Ru, still weak, coughed lightly. “Does your head still hurt?”

“A little. It’s fine,” Jiang Ji said, then frowned. “You’ve been coughing for so long—it can hurt your lungs. Why don’t you go to the town clinic?”

Zhao Ru waved it off. “No need. Once it’s warmer, I’ll be fine.”

Jiang Ji stared into the fire, lost in thought. He had to think of a way to make money—or soon they wouldn’t even be able to afford bran, let alone medicine.

This was what poverty looked like.

But how could he make money?

If there was any trade that brought quick returns, it was food. As long as you had skill, you’d never lack customers.

But Young Master Jiang had never even washed rice before.

Clothing, food, housing, travel—he thought carefully about what skills he actually had.

Jiang Ji: …

Nineteen years alive, and now, for the first time, he realized—he only knew how to eat, drink, play, and enjoy life. Not a single money-making skill.

Utterly useless.

He couldn’t even tell chives from weeds.

Jiang Ji sighed deeply.

How was he supposed to make money?

No skills, no capital—what a headache!

【System data loaded. The Farming System is now active. The host may begin using it.】

Jiang Ji: !

Right—the system!

“You…”

Zhao Ru looked up. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just going out for a bit, Mother.”

He hurried out into the yard and whispered, “You—what kind of system are you exactly? Explain yourself.”

【This system’s real name is “Plow and Harvest.” It is a live-broadcast system, named after the poem Toiling Farmers. Its purpose is to let the user personally experience the hardship of the working people—through diligent labor and self-reliance, to achieve abundance, and to improve the living standards of people in this world, bringing benefit to all.】

Jiang Ji: …

“Self-reliance and hard work?” he repeated, stunned. “So I really am here for some kind of life-transformation program?!”

【If you wish to interpret it that way, that is acceptable.】

“…Was it you people who brought me here?” Jiang Ji snapped. “Send me back right now!”

【The host has already died in the original world. Returning will not bring you back to life. Are you sure you wish to return?】

“…” Jiang Ji immediately changed his tune. “Never mind. Forget I said that.”

So he really couldn’t go back—he’d have to live here.

He stayed silent for a moment, digesting that fact, then frowned. “How’s this ‘live broadcast system’ supposed to stream anything? There’s no phone here.”

【The host’s eyes serve as the camera. Everything the host sees will be broadcast live to the audience in real time. The host can earn system rewards and viewer donations. Accumulated points may be used in the system shop for exchanges.】

Suddenly, a translucent screen appeared before Jiang Ji’s eyes, displaying the Plow and Harvest Live System interface and usage guide.

After reading it, his spirits lifted instantly.

The system tasks were simple:
If viewership reached 10 people, he’d receive a reward of one jin (half a kilogram) of rice—and unlock the donation item “Rice.”
At 100 viewers, he’d earn one jin of pork and unlock “Peanuts.”
At 500 viewers, he’d gain the “Basic Farming Skill” and unlock “Instant Noodles.”

As viewership continued to grow, there would be even more rewards—vegetables, seeds, farming tools, medicines, various goods, and skills—all waiting to be unlocked.

Moreover, the daily viewer count would automatically convert into points redeemable in the system shop.

Rice!

Pork!

Instant noodles!

Just seeing those words made his stomach growl. Jiang Ji was momentarily stunned at himself.

Who would’ve thought—a former rich young master—reduced to drooling at the thought of rice and pork?

He couldn’t even remember the last time this body had eaten real white rice or meat.

But that didn’t matter. Soon, he’d have food again!

His eyes lit up, his spirit rekindled.

So it was just live streaming, right?!

He set himself a small goal: By tonight, the family’s going to eat white rice!

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Ch 1: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

“Brother! Brother!”

Brother? Who?

Jiang Ji had barely regained consciousness when he heard an anxious young girl’s voice. Judging by her tone, she couldn’t be very old. He opened his eyes and found himself lying in the middle of a desolate mountain area, the back of his head throbbing dully.

What happened?

He tried to recall and remembered that he had been driving to a club when a truck coming from the opposite direction suddenly lost control and crashed into him.

So it was a car accident—no wonder his head hurt so much.

But wait—he’d crashed in the city. Why was he lying out here in the wilderness?

“Let me go!” the same girl’s voice shouted angrily. “I won’t go with you! Go away! Brother, brother! Wake up!”

“What are you yelling for? I’m trying to be nice to you. Follow me and you’ll eat well, live well—and I’ll even find someone to treat your mother’s illness. Isn’t that better than starving every day? Don’t be stupid.”

“I don’t want to! Help—!” In her panic, the girl bit down hard on the man’s left wrist.

“Ah—!” The man cried out in pain but didn’t let go. Instead, he slapped the girl across the face. “Ungrateful little brat! Come here, you damn girl!”

Clutching his aching head, Jiang Ji sat up—only to see, a dozen paces away, two people dressed in ancient clothing struggling.

A scruffy, bearded man in his thirties was dragging a little girl who looked no older than a grade-schooler toward the woods.

What the hell!

A creep trying to assault a child?!

Jiang Ji froze for a split second, then sprang to his feet and rushed over.

“Let her go!”

He grabbed the girl’s arm and kicked the man squarely in the stomach.

The man collapsed to the ground, clutching his belly in pain.

Jiang Ji shielded the girl behind him and asked, “Are you alright? Don’t be scared.”

The girl looked up at him through teary eyes and clutched his sleeve tightly. “Brother, you’re awake.”

Brother?

Jiang Ji blinked, puzzled by why she called him that—then, all of a sudden, a flood of foreign memories surged into his mind.

A sharp pain shot through his skull. After a while, he finally pieced together what had happened.

He had transmigrated—into ancient times, into a dynasty called Dasheng, one that didn’t exist in his original world.

The body he now occupied also belonged to someone named Jiang Ji, an ordinary peasant from a small mountain village called Shanqian.

The original body’s family had four children. Jiang Ji was the eldest, nineteen years old this year. The second was the girl beside him, named Jiang Xia, thirteen years old. The youngest were a pair of six-year-old twin boys.

Their father had died five years ago. Their mother had nearly lost her life giving birth to the twins and had been frail and sickly ever since.

It was now early spring, just after the new year, when everything began to grow again. The original Jiang Ji had gone up the mountain with his sister Jiang Xia to chop firewood and dig for wild vegetables.

He was in the middle of chopping when he suddenly heard his sister’s cry for help. Rushing over, he saw that she was being harassed by Li Laosan, a widowed scoundrel from the village.

The original Jiang Ji fought with Li Laosan, but during the struggle, Li shoved him hard. He fell and struck his head on a rock.

He must have died—and that was when Jiang Ji crossed over.

“Brother, are you alright?” Seeing Jiang Ji clutching his head in pain, Jiang Xia asked anxiously.

“You little bastard! How dare you kick me!” Li Laosan had recovered and got up again. He grabbed a stick as thick as a child’s arm from the ground and charged toward them, shouting, “Didn’t I hit you hard enough before?!”

Now that Jiang Ji understood the situation, he reacted instantly—grabbing the swinging stick midair, yanking it free, and striking back with force.

One hit. Then another.

“I’ll beat the hell out of you! You dared to touch my sister?!”

“You filthy beast! Bullying a child, are you?!”

“Touch my sister again and I’ll kill you!”

Before the accident, Jiang Ji had been a rich young master, heir to billions, a textbook second-generation heir. His father had even hired a professional to teach him martial arts for self-defense.

He struck Li Laosan again and again, the stick landing heavy, his kicks slamming into the man’s body until Li was curled up on the ground, begging for mercy.

“Stop! Stop! I was wrong! I won’t do it again!”

But Jiang Ji didn’t stop—he kept hitting. Jiang Xia, seeing blood streaming from Li Laosan’s scalp, quickly grabbed her brother’s arm.

“Brother, stop! Stop!” She was terrified he’d kill the man and bring calamity on their family.

Jiang Ji glared and gave Li one last hard kick. “Get lost!”

Li Laosan scrambled to his feet, clutching his bruised head, and ran off. After a few steps, he turned to shout, “You’ll pay for this!”

“You—!” Jiang Ji started to chase after him, but Jiang Xia caught his sleeve.

“Brother, don’t. Let him go.” She looked at the lump forming on the back of his head, touched it gently, and asked with concern, “Brother, it’s swollen. Does it hurt?”

“Hiss—yeah, a bit,” Jiang Ji gritted out.

“Then let’s go home and have the doctor take a look.”

The girl was already thirteen but looked only eleven or twelve—small and thin, with round eyes and a little face that had hardly any flesh on it. Something about her looked strangely familiar to Jiang Ji, like he’d seen her somewhere before.

He watched her pick up the little basket nearby, carefully gathering the wild vegetables scattered on the ground, then retrieve the hatchet. “Brother, where’s the shoulder pole?”

Jiang Ji thought for a moment and pointed. “Over there.”

They went to fetch the pole, left the chopped firewood behind, and started down the mountain.

As they walked, Jiang Ji looked around in confusion, still trying to process everything.

How had he transmigrated?

But the sore lump on his head, the coarse patched-up cotton jacket, and Jiang Xia walking quietly beside him told him this wasn’t a dream.

When they reached home, Jiang Ji stepped into the courtyard and froze at the sight before him.

A wooden house with a thatched roof and patched-up plank walls—so old that the boards overlapped in layers, showing signs of countless repairs.

From the original’s memories, he knew there were two rooms in the main house, one for the family hall, with the kitchen to the east, and to the right, a pigsty and firewood shed—though there were no pigs left inside.

“Brother! You’re back!”

Two identical little boys ran out from the kitchen—Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei.

The one who had spoken was Jiang Nan, recognizable by a small black mole at the end of his eyebrow—the only difference between the twins.

Jiang Bei stared at his brother, covered in mud, and asked in surprise, “Brother, did you fall?”

Jiang Ji shook his head. “No.”

Just then, their mother, Zhao Ru, walked out of the house. “You’re back already? Weren’t you chopping firewood?”

The moment Jiang Ji saw her, he froze, staring in disbelief.

That face…

His nose stung, his eyes grew hot, and before he could stop himself, he called out, “…Mom?”

How could his mother be here?

Hadn’t she and his sister died seven years ago?

Zhao Ru frowned slightly. “Xiao Ji, what did you say?”

Jiang Ji blinked, staring at her again. Her skin was sallow, her lips pale, the corners of her eyes lined with wrinkles.

Then it hit him—this wasn’t his mother. It was the original Jiang Ji’s mother.

His own mother had been elegant and youthful, even at thirty-seven she’d looked barely twenty.

Yet even knowing that, Jiang Ji couldn’t take his eyes off Zhao Ru.

And suddenly, he realized who Jiang Xia resembled.

His little sister.

Seven years ago, his five-year-old sister and their mother had gone out together and never returned—killed in a car accident.

The thought made his chest ache. If his sister had lived, she would probably have looked just like Jiang Xia now.

Looking between Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia, he felt a wave of tenderness and sorrow—as if seeing his mother and sister alive again.

Zhao Ru, still recovering from a cold, turned her head and coughed softly. Her voice was gentle. “Why are you covered in mud? Did you fall?”

Jiang Xia put down her basket and took her mother’s hand, explaining what had happened in the mountains.

“What?” Zhao Ru’s hands trembled with fury when she heard. “He dared to bully you?! I’ll go find him right now!”

Just then, several people barged into the yard.

“Zhao Ru! Zhao Ru, get out here!”

Li Laosan’s mother, Jin Hua, was already over fifty. She was notorious in the village for being a loud, overbearing woman. She stormed in, dragging her son along, with his two elder brothers following behind, all of them radiating fury.

Zhao Ru had been planning to confront them first, but seeing them arrive instead, she quickly pulled Jiang Xia behind her frail frame. “You still dare come here? I haven’t even settled accounts with you yet!”

“Your son beat my son like this, and you still want to settle with us?” Jin Hua jabbed her finger toward Li Laosan’s bleeding scalp. “I can’t even bear to hit him, and your brat dares to?!”

Hearing them twist the facts, Zhao Ru’s face turned red with anger. “He deserved it! Your son tried to bully my daughter Jiang Xia—shouldn’t he be beaten for that?!”

“It’s your son who should be beaten!” Jin Hua shouted with her hands on her hips. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, pay up!” Li Laosan echoed.

“In your dreams!” Zhao Ru snapped.

Jiang Ji took two steps forward, fixing his cold gaze on Li Laosan. The man flinched, clutching his head and shrinking behind his mother.

Jin Hua slapped her son across the shoulder. “What are you afraid of?! Go get them! If they don’t pay, smash their house!”

“I dare you to try!” Jiang Ji still held the carrying pole in his hand. He raised it and pointed straight at them, his glare so fierce that even Jin Hua hesitated for a moment.

She hadn’t expected the once docile Jiang Ji to turn so intimidating. But after bullying villagers for decades, she couldn’t stomach being cowed now.

“Eldest! Second! Get them!”

Li Laosan’s two brothers grabbed sticks and were about to charge when another group of people entered from the gate.

The ruckus had drawn the neighbors—and the village chief.

“What’s going on here?!” The village chief hurried forward, seeing both sides ready to fight. “Put those sticks down right now!”

“Village Chief, you came just in time!” Jin Hua was the first to complain. “My third son went to the back mountain to chop wood, minding his own business, and that brat Jiang Ji beat him like this! I told them to compensate, but they refused!”

Zhao Ru was furious. “Village Chief, Li Laosan tried to assault my daughter. Jiang Ji only acted to protect her!”

“You saw him assaulting her with your own eyes?!” Jin Hua barked. “Where’s your proof?”

Li Laosan joined in. “Yeah! What proof do you have?”

Jiang Ji gave a short, cold laugh. “I saw it with my own eyes. You saying that’s not enough?”

Jin Hua sneered. “You’re all one family—who’d believe your words?”

“You want proof?” Jiang Ji said icily. “Xia’er, come here.”

Jiang Xia stepped up beside him. Jiang Ji rolled up her sleeve, revealing her wrist. “Village Chief, uncles, aunties—look. These red marks are from when Li Laosan grabbed her. They haven’t even faded yet.”

On Jiang Xia’s right wrist, several red welts stood out clearly—obviously caused by a man’s strong grip.

Everyone’s gaze turned toward Li Laosan. One of the older women spat on the ground. “That filthy Li Laosan, of course he’d do something like that.”

“You say my son did it, and that makes it true?” Jin Hua retorted, her neck stiff. “For all we know, she scratched herself!”

“If you don’t believe it, let Li Laosan come over. We’ll see if the marks match his hand.” Jiang Ji’s tone was cold. “And, Village Chief, when Xia’er struggled, she bit his right wrist. If he wasn’t trying to hurt her, how could a small girl like her reach his arm to bite him?”

The crowd turned again toward Li Laosan, who instantly hid his right hand behind his back.

Someone called out, “Li Laosan, what are you hiding for? Show us your wrist!”

“Why should I?!” Li Laosan shouted, clutching his sleeve tighter.

Jin Hua stepped protectively in front of him. “Yeah, why should we show you anything?”

The village chief didn’t waste words. He stepped forward, grabbed Li Laosan’s arm, and yanked up the sleeve.

There it was—a clear, deep bite mark on the man’s wrist, even breaking skin and drawing blood. The strength of the bite was obvious.

“There’s the bite mark!”

“So he really did try to bully her!”

The village chief’s face darkened. “Li Laosan, what do you have to say for yourself now?”

Li Laosan still tried to lie. “I—I bit myself!”

“Yes, he did it himself!” Jin Hua shouted, desperate.

People in the crowd laughed scornfully. “Then go ahead—bite yourself and see if it matches!”

“Exactly. Doing evil and still denying it.”

Jin Hua glared at everyone. “It wasn’t him! That brat Jiang Ji hit my son, so they must pay! This has nothing to do with you busybodies!”

Just then, an aunt carrying a bundle of firewood passed by. Seeing the commotion, she stopped. “Village Chief, I can vouch for it. Li Laosan did try to bully Jiang Xia. I was nearby—I heard her shouting, ‘I don’t want to! Help!’ and I recognized Li Laosan’s voice. But when I ran over, they were gone.”

With that, the truth became undeniable.

The village chief turned to Jin Hua’s family. “Your Li Laosan was in the wrong first. Jiang Ji acted to protect his sister. He did nothing wrong.”

Jin Hua refused to yield. “So what if he hit my son? His head’s bleeding! They must pay!”

“You’ll stop this nonsense now,” the village chief said sternly. “Everyone here knows what kind of person Li Laosan is. Even if we reported this to the authorities, they’d rule that he deserved what he got!”

Jin Hua threw herself on the ground, wailing and flailing. “I don’t care! They must pay! If they don’t pay, I won’t leave!”

Everyone sighed. They’d seen this act countless times. “That old shrew—she’ll do anything for drama.”

Zhao Ru looked worried that Jin Hua might keep causing trouble, but Jiang Ji patted her arm gently, then turned to the village chief.

“Village Chief, I want to report this to the authorities. Please help me detain Li Laosan for now. Attempted assault is a capital crime in our dynasty—it warrants immediate execution.”

Jiang Ji wasn’t entirely sure of the local laws, but from the memories he inherited, such crimes were treated severely. Even an attempt carried heavy punishment.

His words stunned everyone—especially Jin Hua. She hadn’t expected the once-meek Jiang Ji to go that far. Her face turned pale as she scrambled up, dragging Li Laosan with her, her other two sons stumbling after her in panic.

Everyone: …

“What a shameless family. The whole village’s sick of them!”

“Of course they ran off the moment they heard ‘report to the authorities.’”

But Jiang Ji was faster. In just a few steps, he caught up, grabbed Li Laosan’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and forced him to the ground.

“What are you doing? Let me go!” Li Laosan struggled violently, but Jiang Ji held him down firmly.

“Let my son go!” Jin Hua tried to rush forward, but two villagers stopped her.

Jiang Ji said to the village chief, “Village Chief, I’m taking him to the authorities. Can you come with me?”

The village chief hesitated. “You’re really going to do this?”

Jiang Ji nodded. “Yes. Village Chief, this isn’t the first or second time Li Laosan has caused trouble in the village. And my sister isn’t the only one he’s harassed. If no one teaches him a lesson, who knows which girl he’ll harm next?”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Everyone despised that family. One of Jiang Ji’s clan uncles stepped forward—his own daughter had once been harassed by Li Laosan. “Xiao Ji, I’ll go with you. I’ll help escort him.”

“Good. Thank you, Uncle.”

The village chief thought of all the vile things Li Laosan had done. This time, he hadn’t succeeded—but if they let it slide and he hurt another girl later, it’d be too late. Gritting his teeth, the chief nodded. “Alright. I’ll go too.”

He immediately ordered two villagers to fetch rope, and they tied Li Laosan up securely.

Jiang Ji turned to the aunt who had spoken up earlier. “Aunt Xiufang, would you come with us to testify?”

“Of course,” Aunt Xiufang agreed readily.

When Jin Hua saw that they were actually going to bind her son and take him to the authorities, she burst into tears and wails, trying to incite her other two sons to seize him back. The villagers blocked their way.

Jiang Ji pointed at Li Laosan’s brothers. “If you try to interfere, you’ll be charged as accomplices. I’ll report all of you together to the magistrate.”

Li Laoda and Li Lao’er immediately backed down, cowed, no matter how much Jin Hua screamed.

A group of villagers then set out for the city, leading the bound Li Laosan. Once they arrived, Jiang Ji struck the drum of grievance before the yamen gates, and soon the constables escorted him into the magistrate’s court.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Ch 34: When the Wild Goose Returns

Clearly, Qing Yan had already forgotten that she’d murmured about steamed pork with rice flour in her sleep.

She craned her neck, staring at Duan Wucuo as he sliced meat, utterly stunned.

Duan Wucuo placed the sliced pork belly into a deep white porcelain bowl, then methodically picked up jar after jar from the spice rack, pouring various seasonings into the bowl to marinate the meat.

Then he began cutting up the pumpkin.

Pumpkin was easier to slice than the soft, wobbly pork belly, so he worked faster with it.
The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board was rhythmic and precise.

The blade landed so close to the fingertips holding the pumpkin that Qing Yan kept worrying he’d cut himself.

Her small, palm-sized face was filled with disbelief.

How could she believe that His Highness the Ninth Prince, the esteemed Prince Zhan, someone born to luxury, would willingly enter a greasy, grimy kitchen?

And yet, Duan Wucuo’s practiced movements made it clear this wasn’t his first time cooking.

Curiosity pushed Qing Yan to inch closer.

The kitchen was slightly elevated above the ground outside. Qing Yan stood by the window, tiptoeing and gripping the windowsill with both hands as she eagerly watched Duan Wucuo chop pumpkin.

The rhythmic tapping of the knife suddenly stopped. Duan Wucuo looked up at the little head poking in through the window and asked, “What happened to your hand?”

Qing Yan blinked, then looked down at her left hand wrapped in white gauze. Realizing what he meant, she replied, “I accidentally burned it with a candle.”

Duan Wucuo said nothing more. He finished slicing the pumpkin and placed it in a steamer basket.

Qing Yan studied his face carefully.

His expression was calm and distant—no emotions visible between his brows.

Yet somehow, Qing Yan felt his mood seemed better than when he first returned?

She wasn’t entirely sure.

The pork belly needed more time to marinate in the sauce. Duan Wucuo picked up a cloth and began slowly wiping the blade of the knife.

Qing Yan frowned as she watched him wipe the kitchen knife so methodically. It was an ordinary action, yet for some reason, seeing Duan Wucuo do it gave her a strange feeling.

It was vaguely dangerous—chilling—but not quite to a terrifying degree.

When the time seemed about right, Duan Wucuo placed the marinated pork over the pumpkin slices in the steamer and covered it.

Then, knife still in hand, he walked out of the kitchen.

Qing Yan, full of curiosity, followed him through the kitchen and into the garden behind it.

She hadn’t explored much of the residence since moving in—mainly to avoid running into Chang Bai—so she was unfamiliar with the layout. She now realized that behind the kitchen was not only a vegetable garden but also a small poultry coop.

Just as she was wondering what Duan Wucuo was up to, he walked into the flock of chickens, grabbed a plump hen, and with a swift motion, slit its throat. Blood splattered onto the ground nearby.

But his hands remained clean—spotless. His pale blue monk’s robe was also immaculate, untouched by blood or grime.

“Cluck cluck! Cluck cluck!”

“Quack quack! Quack quack!”

The sudden killing frightened the rest of the chickens and ducks. They flapped their wings and backed away, squawking in alarm.

Qing Yan blinked. One moment, the hen had been happily pecking at feed, and the next—dead.

Her lips parted slightly, stunned.

It was just a chicken, but as Qing Yan stared at its lifeless body, head hanging and blood dripping, her vision blurred. For a moment, it wasn’t a chicken’s head Duan Wucuo had chopped off—it was a human’s.

You couldn’t blame her for thinking this way.

After all, everyone in the Yi Kingdom knew—Duan Wucuo liked to kill.

Born and raised in Yi, Qing Yan had naturally heard many stories about him.

People in the kingdom often said Duan Wucuo was the god of Yi.

That saying had two meanings.

One: the current emperor owed much of his secure hold on the throne to Duan Wucuo. In earlier years, Duan Wucuo led military campaigns and achieved stunning victories. Much of the territory of the Yi Kingdom was conquered by him.

Two: he held the power of life and death in his hands.

He not only commanded armies—his orders had sent countless to their graves.

When the current emperor first took the throne, Duan Wucuo oversaw the dark guards of the kingdom. During the time when the eunuch-run Eastern and Western Bureaus held sway, he had taken over the Western Bureau himself, balancing the power and dismantling their grip entirely.

Over the years, far too many had died at Duan Wucuo’s hand.

And his methods were notoriously brutal. It was said that no one who died by his hand had an intact corpse.

Qing Yan shivered. That eerie, skin-crawling feeling now clearly settled in.

Duan Wucuo glanced at her, then looked away, lifting the decapitated hen and walking past her.

As he stepped back toward the kitchen, he instructed a nearby maid, “Go to Fenhe Zhai and buy two jin of pomegranate rice cakes.”

Qing Yan stared at his retreating figure, confused all over again.

When she had first met Duan Wucuo, she could hardly believe that this man in monk’s robes was the same Prince Zhan she’d heard so much about as a child.

Her first impression of him was simply too clean, too gentle—nothing like a ruthless god or demon.

“My lady?” Sui’er gently reminded her.

Qing Yan came back to her senses and quickly caught up with Duan Wucuo.

This time, she didn’t stay outside the window but stepped into the kitchen.

Only then did she realize that although the kitchen seemed plain from the outside, the interior was thoughtfully arranged.

Every container of spices was made of jade or other priceless materials.

Some were even adorned with gold, silver, and precious gems.

Qing Yan suddenly had a guess—this kitchen probably belonged to Duan Wucuo alone.

She moved beside him and watched as he expertly cleaned the hen with hot water.

Carefully, she asked, “Did the Empress Dowager say something…”

Duan Wucuo didn’t respond. Instead, he asked, “How would you like it cooked?”

Qing Yan blinked. “You know how to cook it every way?”

Duan Wucuo turned his face slightly to look at Qing Yan, the corners of his eyes lifting in a silent smile.

Qing Yan’s cheeks flushed for no reason. She said, “I want to eat the kind that’s roasted whole… crispy outside, tender inside. The kind that bursts with juice when you bite in. A beggar’s chicken that’s fragrant and crisp.”

Duan Wucuo gave a quiet nod of assent.

He remained silent, and Qing Yan stayed quiet as well.

She stood nearby, quietly watching him cook.

To her shame, although she loved good food, she had never learned to cook. She rarely entered kitchens herself. This was the first time she realized how pleasing it could be to watch someone skillfully prepare food.

The sleeve of Duan Wucuo’s monk robe suddenly slipped down, and Qing Yan quickly stepped forward to help him roll it back up.

One moved, the other watched—one cooked, the other observed.

Neither spoke again.

After a long time, Qing Yan hesitated before finally asking in a soft voice, “Your Highness, why do you like cooking? I thought you wouldn’t enjoy things like this…”

As she asked, Duan Wucuo was handling a fish.

There was a gentle smile between his brows and eyes, and his tone was just as mild. Leisurely, he said:

“Buddhist vows forbid taking life.
But the rhythm of a blade slicing through meat or vegetables… does feel somewhat like cutting human flesh.”

With that, the knife fell cleanly—he chopped off the fish’s head with practiced ease. The fish tail still flailed as it made its final struggle.

When Duan Wucuo looked at her with that smiling gaze, Qing Yan quickly shut her slightly open mouth—only to bite her own tongue in the process. She winced from the sting, eyes narrowing.

She instantly regretted asking the question.

That night, Duan Wucuo not only made her steamed pork with rice flour.

To be precise, he cooked a whole table of rich dishes.

“Try this, my lady.”

Duan Wucuo sat down.

He had changed into snow-colored everyday clothes, his long fingers pale and clean from repeated washing in cool water.

With his long, elegant fingers, he picked up a piece of steamed pork with silver chopsticks and held it up to her lips.

Qing Yan didn’t have time to refuse. She had to open her mouth and let him feed her.

It wasn’t his first time feeding her, and by now Qing Yan had learned: she had to eat fast, because Duan Wucuo fed quickly.

One piece after another, her lips, normally a pale pink, were soon flushed with color, glistening like ripened fruit.

Her snowy cheeks puffed slightly as she chewed.

Duan Wucuo watched her eat with great interest. A hint of genuine amusement surfaced in his deep, still eyes.

While he paused to pick up the next piece, Qing Yan quickly seized the bowl of sweet soup Sui’er had prepared and took two hurried sips.

The steamed pork was indeed delicious—glutinous yet light, tender but not mushy, crisp and flavorful, rich yet not greasy.

But paired with the cool red bean and purple rice sweet soup, it was even better.

Seeing her drink soup, Duan Wucuo didn’t push her to eat more right away.

He set down the chopsticks and picked up a piece of pomegranate rice cake, holding it up beside his face.

With a teasing smile, he asked, “Does this look like my mouth?”

Qing Yan froze. Her face turned bright red. Then she suddenly choked and sprayed sweet soup all over his face.

Startled, she didn’t even wipe her own mouth, rushing to grab a handkerchief from a maid and stumble toward him, stammering, “I’ll wipe it off for you!”

Duan Wucuo dabbed his tongue at a drop on the corner of his lips and said with an utterly serious expression:

“It would be even better if you licked it off.”

All the maids in the room immediately lowered their heads, not daring to look.

Qing Yan, clutching the handkerchief, stared wide-eyed at Duan Wucuo’s face, now dotted with soup, completely speechless.

After a long pause, she drew a deep breath, composed herself, and forced an affected tone:

“Well… this sweet soup isn’t that good. I don’t want to drink it anymore.”

Her words were firm, but they had no effect on Duan Wucuo.

He grasped her wrist and with a light tug, pulled her into his lap.

With a single word—“Leave”—the maids in the room all hurried out with heads bowed.

Wen Xi glanced worriedly at Qing Yan, but said nothing and followed them out, gently shutting the door.

Duan Wucuo used his fingertip to wipe a trace of soup from the corner of her mouth and said, “You have two choices, madam. Either lick it clean… or eat everything on this table.”

Qing Yan looked at him, then glanced at the dishes still covering the table.

Then, she pushed away his arm at her waist and climbed down from his lap.

Returning to her seat, she pulled the bowl of steamed pork in front of her.

There was still about a third left.

Without a word, she lowered her head and started eating.

The silver chopsticks were slippery. She tossed them aside and picked up a spoon, shoveling food into her mouth.

Next came the whole beggar’s chicken.

She devoured the wings first, then the drumsticks, even gnawing every bit of meat from the ribs.

Then it was on to the steamed fish, the phoenix-tail shark fin, stir-fried pigeon with coriander, and the scallop flower balls, occasionally pausing for a bite of sweet-and-sour lotus root.

She continued with chrysanthemum pork, braised prawns, and salted beef.

Then she picked up the vegetarian mushroom soup and drank straight from the bowl, gulping it down.

Her face tilted upward with each mouthful. When she finished the last drop, she placed the now-empty bowl on the table, looked at Duan Wucuo, and burped.

“Hic.”

Of all the dishes, only the pomegranate rice cakes—bought from outside—remained.

Their snowy-white exterior and bright red filling reminded her of last night’s embarrassment.

Qing Yan swore she’d never eat pomegranate rice cake again.

With a straight face, she declared, “This princess only eats what my husband makes with his own hands. I won’t eat anything bought from outside. Hic.”

Duan Wucuo wiped the soup from his face, looked over the wrecked table, and said slowly, “It’s late. After bathing with me, madam should rest.”

Qing Yan responded warily, “Your Highness can go first.”

Duan Wucuo leaned in slightly, brushed away a sesame seed clinging to her dimple, and said with a smile, “It’s too late. Let’s hurry together.”

Qing Yan stiffened and forced herself to say, “Your Highness… hic… hiccups are improper! Hic!”

“No matter. I have a remedy.”

Duan Wucuo took a clean handkerchief from her waist, unfolded it, and gently laid it over her face.

Then, through the cloth, he kissed her greasy lips.

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 33: When the Wild Goose Returns

Qing Yan’s first thought was—how could an outsider man have the nerve to stand in the courtyard asking to enter a lady’s sleeping quarters?

But she quickly remembered: Chang Bai was no longer the older brother she once knew. Now, as a eunuch serving the palace, he had been “cleansed.”

Still, Qing Yan felt uncomfortable receiving him in her sleeping quarters while wearing nightclothes. She changed into her regular clothes, finished washing up, and only then allowed him in.

When Chang Bai entered, Sui’er was bent over, tidying the bedding.

His eyes brushed past the disheveled bedding, and a strange sting flashed through his chest.

The pain came quickly—and without reason.

He withdrew his gaze and bowed. “Greetings to My Lady.”

Qing Yan deliberately maintained the princess’s airs, mimicking Princess Huachao’s tone of speech. She drew out her words lazily: “What is it?”

“It was this servant’s failure to allow a criminal disguised as a eunuch to sneak into the estate. I’ve already redrawn the patrol schedule overnight and came to report it to you.”

Qing Yan leaned on her hand, putting on an expression of boredom. She said listlessly, “Why bother me with such trifles?”

“Yes. My Lady is correct to reprimand me.” Chang Bai bowed lower.

Qing Yan huffed and raised her chin slightly, appearing rather displeased.

She said, “Just remember this—it better not happen again. If it does, ten heads won’t be enough for you to lose!”

“Yes.” A faint crease appeared between Chang Bai’s brows.

His Qing’er had always been cheerful and soft-spoken, with dimples in her smile. She would never speak this way.

“Leave now!” Qing Yan waved her hand.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Chang Bai was about to turn when his gaze unintentionally swept across Qing Yan’s hand—specifically, the web between her thumb and forefinger.

He froze.

There, on her left hand, was a tiny red mole.

Before he could look more closely, Qing Yan quickly pulled her hand back and sat upright.

A glint of suspicion flickered through Chang Bai’s eyes.

Qing’er had a red mole in that exact spot.

He thought he had just seen the same on Princess Huachao’s hand—but hadn’t seen it clearly.

“What are you still doing here?” Qing Yan’s voice turned cold.

Chang Bai could not stay any longer. He bowed and retreated.

But in his heart, he made up his mind: next time, he would find a way to confirm whether that red mole truly existed.

Qing Yan had withdrawn her hand because she, too, remembered the mole.

It was the only visible one on her body—and she knew Chang Bai had seen it before.

Did he see it just now?

She tried to read his expression as he left. He likely hadn’t seen clearly.

But sooner or later, he would.

What should she do?

Qing Yan walked slowly to the incense table in the southwest corner of the room.

Lifting the candle lamp, she remarked casually, “The pattern on this lamp base is quite pretty.”

Qing’er was about to agree, but then—Qing Yan’s hand trembled. The lamp tipped, and flame spilled onto her left hand.

She cried out in pain.

Qing’er and Sui’er panicked and rushed to find the burn ointment.

Sui’er quickly treated the burn and wrapped Qing Yan’s hand in layer after layer of gauze.

The flame had singed her skin, but for Qing Yan, this pain was nothing.

She had been thinking of Chang Bai—and became lost in thought.

She had met him at ten years old, after being taken in by her lady.

Her lady’s father was the Prefect of Zhanyuan Prefecture. Her lady had married into a once-wealthy but fallen family. Her husband had been betrothed to her since birth, and the Prefect had taken him in after his family’s downfall—paying for his education and helping him prepare for the civil service exams.

Her lady and her husband grew up together, married, and were deeply in love. Eventually, they had a daughter.

Qing Yan had grown up at their side, and thus saw Chang Bai often, since he served that man. In a way, she and Chang Bai grew up together.

Then her lady and the man married, and the household was harmonious.

As Qing Yan matured, she occasionally overheard whispers from the other maids.

They said the man’s gaze had lingered on Qing Yan after the lady became pregnant.

Qing Yan, having once been sold from place to place—passing through even a brothel—was always more sensitive than most.

In a household like this, it wasn’t unusual for a maid to be taken as a concubine.

But the man had a complicated position. He owed everything to his wife’s family. Even if their marriage was nominally equal, it always carried the air of dependence. He would not dare take concubines openly.

Because Qing Yan had been betrayed and sold so many times, she placed enormous weight on kindness.

She knew that if not for her lady taking her in, she might have grown up in that brothel and become like the other courtesans.

She remembered standing quietly by the door, watching her lady hold the little girl and sing her to sleep, the moonlight pouring over them.

Her lady’s gentle smile still tugged at Qing Yan’s heart.

What should she do?

She couldn’t bear to upset her lady. She should have distanced herself early on, before anything ever happened.

She knew that if she told her lady she wanted to retrieve her deed of sale and leave, the lady would surely agree.

But she couldn’t bring herself to part from her.

A few days later, the man casually mentioned wanting to betroth her to Chang Bai.

Qing Yan was stunned.

Had she misunderstood everything from the start?

Seeing the man’s gentle, fatherly expression as he soothed the little girl, Qing Yan began to doubt herself.

Perhaps he had only been momentarily tempted, but now had come to his senses and intended to devote himself entirely to her lady.

The maids at her lady’s side all seemed to be matched to the attendants at the man’s.

Suddenly, Qing Yan thought—if she married Chang Bai, wouldn’t that both avoid suspicion and allow her to stay by her lady’s side forever?

Besides, Chang Bai had always treated her well.

At the time, she thought marrying Chang Bai was the best choice.

So, she agreed.

Her lady was surprised, but gave her blessing.

However, the lady said she was still too young—barely fourteen—and kept her for another year.

And after that…

Did she hate Chang Bai?

No, not really.

Everyone has limits. Seeking benefit and avoiding harm is human nature. No one should be expected to bear full responsibility for someone else’s safety.

Rather than blame others for standing by, it’s better to blame herself for being weak and powerless.

Qing Yan had never truly hated anyone.

It wasn’t worth it.

She frowned, lips tightly pressed together.

If she could turn back time, maybe she would’ve left her lady early on and married someone outside the household.

Maybe she would’ve risked her lady’s disbelief and told her everything.

Qing Yan sighed.

“Does it hurt, My Lady?” Qing’er asked nervously.

Qing Yan returned to her senses, realizing she’d been zoning out for who knows how long. Qing’er and Sui’er were both watching her anxiously.

She immediately smiled and said, “It doesn’t hurt, but I’m starving to death.”

Qing’er and Sui’er hurried out to summon someone to bring food.

For the rest of the day, Qing Yan remained in the room, waiting for Wen Xi and Duan Wucuo to return.

She had originally only planned to wait for Wen Xi, but after what happened with Cheng Ji, she found herself hoping Duan Wucuo would come back soon too—with news from the palace.

Wen Xi returned first.

When a maid reported her arrival, Qing Yan didn’t let Qing’er or Sui’er come with her—she rushed straight to Wen Xi’s room alone.

“Sister Wen Xi!”

She pushed the door open.

Wen Xi was sitting at the table, staring blankly at a dagger in her hand.

Seeing Qing Yan, she silently put the dagger away.

Qing Yan made a curious sound. “Isn’t that General Li’s dagger?”

“Yes. It’s not entirely safe being in a foreign land. General Li gave it to me for self-defense.”

“Oh.”

Qing Yan sat across from her and said, “General Li is really devoted. I hope once he returns to the Tao Kingdom, he can let go of the princess and find someone new.”

“Why do you always care about other people’s affairs? None of that has anything to do with you. You’d be better off worrying about yourself.”

Wen Xi’s tone was cold.

Qing Yan looked at her in confusion. Wen Xi’s mood shift seemed unprovoked.

She figured it must have something to do with Cheng Ji’s death and said nothing more.

As Wen Xi looked at Qing Yan, the word sincerity came to mind.

Qing Yan’s kindness and genuineness often left her puzzled.

Wen Xi sighed silently and tucked the dagger back into its case.

She would never tell Qing Yan that the dagger General Li gave her wasn’t just for self-defense—it was to constantly remind her to protect the real Princess Huachao.

And if Qing Yan were ever exposed—she was to be eliminated.

Qing Yan waited and waited, but Duan Wucuo never came back.

As time dragged on, her unease grew.

She summoned Steward Bai and asked him for news.

Sure enough, less than a day had passed, and Cheng Ji’s death had already caused a huge uproar in the capital.

While she remained unaware inside the estate, the outside world was in chaos.

Word had it that the old Madam of the Cheng family had fainted from crying several times, and the Left prime minister was so furious he skipped court that morning.

There was no word yet from the Empress Dowager—but there was no doubt the news had already reached the palace.

Now the Imperial Guard was out in full force, combing every street and alley.

Several high-ranking officials had been personally appointed by the emperor to investigate.

And yet, the Left Chancellor still wasn’t satisfied. He had already mobilized his own forces, determined to get justice for his only grandson.

Qing Yan only then learned that Duan Wucuo had tampered with Cheng Ji’s corpse. His death had been gruesome—his head severed, the wound on his neck unnaturally clean.

His limbs were intact, but every joint had been crushed.

His internal organs were missing, though remnants had been found in his mouth.

Qing Yan was horrified.

The more she heard, the more anxious she became.

Only a few people in the estate knew what had happened the night before.

Steward Bai tried to reassure her. “Do not worry for His Highness. He will be fine.”

Worry for Duan Wucuo?

Qing Yan was clearly more concerned about herself—and Wen Xi.

“His Highness has returned!” Sui’er rushed in, knowing Qing Yan had been waiting anxiously.

Qing Yan jumped up with a start and ran out.

In the courtyard, she saw Duan Wucuo walking toward her.

But one look at his face, and all her questions died in her throat.

A calm, gentle smile was on his face—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He rolled the Buddhist prayer beads between his fingers. His monk’s robes were perfectly arranged, making him look otherworldly, composed, and refined.

It was said Duan Wucuo never lost his temper.

He smiled—even when killing.

Qing Yan instinctively stopped. Seeing the expression on his face, she knew he was truly angry.

A memory from childhood resurfaced—being scolded by the old women in the household. That fear of Duan Wucuo stirred in her again.

When he approached, she reflexively stepped aside to let him pass.

Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who noticed. The courtyard fell completely silent.

Even after Duan Wucuo passed, Qing Yan stood frozen in place.

If her actions had implicated him, Qing Yan felt a deep guilt.

She exchanged a glance with Wen Xi, then bit her lip and decided to go find Duan Wucuo.

He had gone to the kitchen.

Qing Yan followed and peered in through the open kitchen window.

Duan Wucuo was slicing meat.

His long, fair fingers held down the marbled pork belly. The other hand gripped the knife, his movements practiced and smooth.

She couldn’t tell whether it was the beauty of his hands or the fluid grace of his actions—but watching him slice meat, Qing Yan found a strange sense of aesthetic pleasure.

She quietly observed his expression.

Head bowed, eyes lowered, completely focused.

Only then did she notice—his eyelashes were long.

She asked softly, “Your Highness, what are you doing?”

“Steamed pork with rice flour.”

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔